


Mission #49301

by VanLudwig



Category: Naruto
Genre: Camaraderie, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Strangers to Lovers, kakashi and iruka both kick his ass tho, kakashi helps iruka heal, mentions of past sexual abuse, mizuki is a victim blamer, pre-series AU, so just ignore the fact that this story makes no linear sense, tsunade is my favorite hokage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-01-31 14:21:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21447607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanLudwig/pseuds/VanLudwig
Summary: Iruka returns from a yearlong mission to infiltrate the harem of a dangerous warlord. He’d known, of course, what he was signing himself up for, but that hardly matters now. Picking up the pieces and readjusting to life in Konoha will be difficult, especially given Hatake Kakashi's sudden interest in him and Mizuki's sudden distance."I volunteered for that mission... I guess I just thought that, if I didn’t, someone else would have to."
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka
Comments: 32
Kudos: 188





	1. Iruka Returns Home

_ Mission File #49301 – Field Journal Entries _

_ Classification Status: Restricted _

_ Mission Status: Complete _

_ __ _

  
  


_ June 2__nd _ _ , xxx1 _

_ I arrived at the compound today, but already I can see how bad things are. Everyone's carrying a weapon except for the captives, who look malnourished and terrified. I could tell his men didn’t expect me to speak their language. I’m going to play dumb and use that to my advantage. _

_ I found a girl who understands me. She told me no one is fed unless they work, so I guess I’ll be going hungry for a while. She can’t be older than eleven. Maru is her name. _

_ __ _

_ July 15t__h _ _ , xxx1 _

_ I’ve been teaching Maru how to read kanji. She’s either a slow learner or I’m a terrible teacher, but it’s something to do. Other than wait. _

_ She’s a sweet kid. I wish I could do more to protect her. _

_ __ _

_ August 11 _ _ th _ _ , xxx1 _

_ He killed another one today. He made us watch him do it. She didn’t do anything wrong. None of us have. _

_ I don’t know how much longer I stand this. I’m under orders specifically not to use force, lethal or otherwise, against them, but Gods, I want to. _

_ I didn’t know the girl’s name, but this morning, she helped me tie my hair up. My shoulder’s still injured. It hurts to move, but I can’t do anything to heal it. I can’t be found out now, not when I’ve come this far. Not when I still have so long to go. _

_ I don’t know how much longer I can do this. _

_ __ _

_ September 23rd, xxx1 _

_ You hear it said that the first time is the hardest for anything, but for me, it was the second time. The shock of the first time it happened was one thing, but the dread is the worst part of it for me. The waiting, the anticipation, the _ _ knowing _ _ what’s going to happen to you. _

_ I think he’s making me his favorite. _

_ Good. At least I’m giving the others a break from him. At least this means I’m finally getting close. I’m tired of waiting around. _

_ __ _

_ November 9 _ _ th _ _ , xxx1 _

_ Maru was murdered. She was found with one of his knives under her pillow. _

_ I killed the guy who did it. No idea what they’ll do to me. _

_ Maru. _

_ __ _

_ December, xxx1 _

_ I have no idea how long I’ve been gone, but there are a few unfamiliar faces. They kept me underground, bound, gagged, and blindfolded. My limbs are stiff, and everything hurts so much. I’m sorry. I can’t talk about what happened down there, not with anyone. _

_ I’m sorry. I’m sorry. _

_ I paid for my revenge. _

_ __ _

_ February, xxx2 _

_ It snowed today for the first time. _

_ I miss home. _

_ __ _

_ June 14 _ _ th _ _ , xxx2 _

_ I can’t do this anymore. _

_ … _

_ But I have to, somehow. _

_ __ _

_ August 2 _ _ nd _ _ , xxx2 _

_ The signal came today. _

_ None of the girls who followed me got very far. _

_ I’m sorry. I’m sorry, everyone. _

_ I’m going home now. _

_ __ _

Umino Iruka laid in his hospital bed on a warm summer day, sipping canned juice through a straw and looking out the open window. The bed was soft and comfortable, the sheets clean and serviceable. He was dressed in a hospital nightgown but had been given scrubs to wear by one of the nurses, as well. The material was scratchy against his skin. Outside, several sparrows landed on the window’s ledge and chirped curiously at him, then flew away. The sound of a dozen tiny, chattering voices rose from below as schoolchildren made their morning commute to the academy. Beneath all of this, the dull buzz of the cicadas signaled the approach of fall. 

A nurse came in to check Iruka’s vitals. She marked a few things down on his chat then asked him how he was feeling. Iruka told her he was fine because it was the truth. For the first time in over a year, Iruka was fine. No one else seemed to believe him, but that was how he felt. No paranoia, no pain, no midnight summons. He was safe. He was fine.

His first official visitor was a messenger from Tsunade’s office, requesting permission to debrief later that week. He’d accepted and encouraged her to come as soon as she was ready. He was fine, after all. A few bumps and bruises wouldn’t prevent him from doing his job, and the sooner he could put this mission behind him, the better. The messenger had seemed skeptical but passed along his acceptance to the Hokage all the same. 

His second visitor was Mizuki, technically, but they hadn’t actually allowed him to enter Iruka’s room. Evidently, only personnel with the appropriate clearances were allowed to see him, at least until he’d been debriefed. 

In between visitors and the nurse’s ministrations, Iruka looked out of the window and drank more juice, doing his best to think about nothing in particular. He didn’t think about the year he’d lost. He didn’t think about the other men, women, and children who’d been captive with him. He didn’t let his mind focus on the pain, humiliation, and torture he’d endured up until a few short hours ago.

_ A sparrow landed on a tree branch, barely visible through the tiny, barred windows. Iruka’s head snapped towards it. Sparrows were not native on this island. They were native to his home, to Konoha. Then, in the same instant, he heard it sing an achingly familiar strain, five clear, staccato notes repeated five times over. By the fifth note, Iruka was on his feet. _

“Hey, Umino, welcome back.”

Tsunade stood in the doorframe, cast in the waning light of the setting sun. Iruka jumped, his entire body twitching violently as his nerves fired all at once, and he was blinded momentarily by panic, by the need to _ escape, go, run, now! His fingers gripped the sheets, his knuckles white and bloody. It hurt, everything hurt, but no matter how much he screamed, it didn’t stop. Nothing would stop him, only death. Agony tore his body apart as his vision went white. _

When Iruka came to, several nurses were flitting around him. One had a grip on his wrist, while two others were applying cold compresses to his pulse points. His skin felt clammy with sweat, and his heart was racing like he’d been sprinting for his life. 

Tsunade stood in the corner, knuckle between her teeth. When she saw his eyes open, she took a step forward. “My apologies for startling you, Iruka.”

“Tsunade,” he gasped. His lungs burned. “I’m so sorry.”

“Just lay there for a minute, okay? I’ll do the talking, so just relax.” She pulled a chair over to his bedside, nudging a nurse out of the way, and sat, taking his hand in hers. “You don’t need to be sorry, Iruka.” Her eyes were shining. “You’re back. You’re safe, and you’re back.” She patted his hand. “My team is going through the mission dossiers you provided now, but from what I’ve seen so far, you’ve done a much more thorough job gathering intel than we could have hoped for.” Tsunade’s eyes flickered to the nurses in the room, then back to Iruka. “We’ll be able to use this information very soon.”

“I’m glad I was able to help,” Iruka said. His heartbeat had become steadier, and he felt his head beginning to clear as he focused on her hands holding his. 

“We’re all glad to have you back, Iruka. Or, at least, we will be.” She smiled wryly. “We haven’t released that information to the public yet. Only the rescue team knows.” 

“And Mizuki,” Iruka added. 

“Mizuki was on the rescue team.”

“Oh.” Iruka blushed. 

“He doesn’t know the details of the mission,” Tsunade said, gripping his hand tightly, “No one does, except for myself and a handful of others.” She caught his gaze and held it solemnly. “You performed a vital task for your country. No one thinks worse of you for what you endured. You’re a brave man. Remember that.” 

Iruka didn’t know what to say.

She squeezed his hand one more time, then rose. “Your injuries aren’t serious, but we’re going to keep you through the night to continue to monitor you and run tests. You’ll be discharged in the morning, and I’ve authorized a month of leave for you.”

“Thank you, Tsunade.” 

Iruka continued to feel numb after the Hokage and the nurses left. When he thought about his mission, it was like a callous had built up over his memories. Remaining in imprisonment for so long had disconnected him from reality, and he found he couldn’t remember how things used to be, before he’d left on assignment. He looked out the window at the moon and the stars and couldn’t recall a time when his windows hadn’t been barred. Though he knew, logically, that he was safe and back in Konoha, it took him a long time to work up the courage to do something so simple as rise and walk to the bathroom. For the first time, his bedroom door wasn’t locked, and he walked freely down the hallway, his feet taking him wherever it occurred to him to go. 

When he got back to his hospital room, he was sweating, and his heartbeat was racing. Invisible monsters lingered in his periphery, and he didn’t fall asleep until well after the sun had risen. 

__

When Iruka went in to see Tsunade for his de-briefing, he blacked out during the opening questions and had to be escorted back to his apartment. They sent for his emergency contact, Mizuki, who arrived almost immediately and helped him get home. 

Mizuki started a kettle for tea on the stove and rummaged around in the cabinets for anything he could turn into food. “Damn, Iruka, I know you’ve been gone for a year,” he quipped, “But couldn’t you have picked up some groceries on your way back?”

Iruka, who wasn’t really in the mood to joke - his head hurt from when he’d fallen - merely grunted in response. 

Mizuki looked over at him pityingly and fetched him a blanket to wrap around his shoulders. “C’mon, kid, let’s at least have some tea. You can tell me what happened if you want.”

Iruka clutched the blanket around his shoulders, a blush coloring his cheeks. “I don’t know what happened,” he lied, “Everything was going fine. Maybe I’m just hungry?”

Mizuki made a thoughtful noise. “Could be. Sometimes, I get lightheaded if I haven’t eaten, especially after a stressful mission.” He crouched and began rummaging through the bottom cabinets. “Seriously, ‘Ru, no instant noodles or anything?”

“Ah, yeah, actually,” Iruka said, “Open the other cabinet, the one to the right.”

Mizuki seized a few brightly-colored packages and brought a pot of water to boil on the stove. As he stirred in the noodles and seasoning, he turned back to face Iruka. “Was it stressful? Your mission? None of us have heard anything. That was some gnarly place we busted you out from.”

Iruka swallowed heavily. “It’s, ah, that’s because it’s still classified.”

“But we’re friends,” he pointed out, “Close enough that I’m your emergency contact, ‘Ru, as weird as that was to find out. If something’s bugging you, I want to know about it.”

Iruka shivered. “Well, I’d love that cup of tea, actually.”

Mizuki reached up and brought down two mugs to pour the green tea into. The smell of earthy matcha filled the air in the cramped kitchen. Iruka felt his shoulders drop, a little tension releasing as he grasped the mug in both hands. “Thank you,” he said.

Mizuki sat across from him, his gaze focused on Iruka. “A year’s a long time to be gone. We missed you.” He laid his hands down flat on the table. “I missed you. It’s been hard not having you around.”

Iruka was forced to look away to hide the way his eyes had begun to water. “I missed you, too.” 

“You want to have some people over? We could throw a coming home party for you,” he suggested, “Or maybe go out to the bar?”

Iruka didn’t know what he wanted, didn’t know what this version of him wanted. The old Iruka would leap at the chance to go out. He’d been spontaneous and fun, gregarious in a crowd and more than a little mischievous once he started drinking. He loved going out and being around people, thrilled at the chance to let loose and party. If he was being honest, he'd admit he even had a bit of a reputation, too. 

But Iruka didn’t feel like that person anymore. Too much had happened between now and then. Truthfully, he just didn’t know who he was anymore. Right now, he didn’t feel like he was anything. Maybe throwing himself back into his old life would show him how to be himself again. 

He found himself nodding. “The bar sounds good. I could probably use a drink.” 

Mizuki made a fist and pounded the table. “That’s my boy! I’ll call everyone up. But that means you definitely need to eat. I’m gonna run down to the market quick to get something green to add to this mess.” 

Mizuki rose suddenly, his chair making a scraping noise against the wooden floor. Iruka twitched, hands coming up in a defensive posture, forearms braced in front of his face. The whole thing happened in the blink of an eye, but neither man missed a millisecond. 

Mizuki sat gingerly, staring curiously at his friend. “’Ru,” he said, soft and hesitant, “You’re really okay?”

Iruka exhaled a breath he hadn’t been aware of holding, his arms dropping. “Sorry, I-,” he paused, uncertain, “It’s just so soon, is all. I just got back.”

“Can you go out tonight?” 

The way Mizuki asked the question rubbed Iruka the wrong way. He was a shinobi who had just completed a year-long mission filled with unspeakable horror, true, but he was just as capable as anyone else. He was shaken, of course, but he could handle it. They all handled it at some point in their careers. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just not adjusted to being back yet. It’s only been a day.” 

“If you’re sure, I mean-.”

“_Of course I’m sure_!!” 

It was only in the silence that followed that Iruka realized he had yelled. He sighed again. “I’m sorry. I think I just need to rest for a bit. Would you mind?”

Mizuki shook his head. “You go ahead. I’ll finish making the noodles and put them in the fridge for you.” He put a hand on Iruka’s shoulder as he rose, slowly this time. “But you have to promise to eat it, if I leave. I don’t want you blacking out and throwing up everywhere after three shots.” 

Iruka managed a smile. “Don’t worry about me.”

He went into his bedroom and drew the curtains, blanketing the room in pale darkness. Still wearing the blanket Mizuki had fetched for him, Iruka laid down on his small bed, letting all of the tension leak from his tensed muscles. Distantly, he heard Mizuki continue to move around in the kitchen, and the small, domestic noises comforted him. When was the last time he had been truly relaxed, able to let his guard down, knowing a friend was nearby? 

Iruka rolled over and stared at the weak shard of light that escaped through the crack where the curtains met in the middle of the window. He was fine. 

_ I’m sorry. _

__

Mizuki knew Iruka needed him, even if he couldn’t say the words. He’d been on active duty long enough to know the signs of trauma, and there was something deeply wrong with his friend. The jumps, the silences, and how he seemed emotionally so far away were all about as good as waving a red flag, and Mizuki knew firsthand how hard it was to re-integrate into your old life after being away for so long. It was like you had to become a whole new person on a mission of that magnitude and then, when you came home, figure out how to turn yourself back. He just hoped that putting Iruka back in his old element would work. 

He sent out the word to all of the regulars that there would be a party at their favorite dive bar to welcome Iruka back to Konoha. It was a shinobi bar, so everyone there knew what to expect from a crowd like Mizuki and Iruka’s. 

Mizuki and Iruka. The cadence of their names was a bit poetic. It had a nice ring to it. Mizuki usually didn’t think about things like that, but Iruka had been gone for a whole year, and they’d hardly had time to say goodbye to one another. It was like that, sometimes, with classified missions. Mizuki had others, of course, but Iruka was special. He had a way of looking at you like you were the only good thing in the entire world. It was one of the many reasons why Iruka was so popular in the village.

Almost as soon as Mizuki had sent the first message out about his return, there were enthusiastic people threatening to beat down Iruka’s apartment door. Mizuki assured them there would be plenty of Iruka to go around later that night, even though he remained unsure that drawing a large crowd around his cagey friend would be such a good idea. And he appreciated the few opportunities he had to have Iruka alone. Mizuki rarely went out of his way to share him, but this was a special occasion. This was a homecoming.

Having disbursed the invites, Mizuki went about taking care of some chores for Iruka. He’d been in the habit of dropping by periodically to let some fresh air in, sort the mail, and water Iruka’s various succulent plants, but there was the matter of there being no fresh fruit or vegetables in the house. Also, even though he’d been airing it regularly, there was quite a dust build-up on all of Iruka’s books and knickknacks. 

Mizuki tied a bandana over his hair and gave the apartment the scrub-down it deserved, knowing Iruka to be the kind of person who appreciated extreme cleanliness. He wanted to make his friend’s transition home as easy as possible, being in the rare mood to do something good for someone else. Normally, he couldn’t be bothered. Just another way in which Iruka was special to him. 

Mizuki remembered his first long-term mission. He’d been infiltrating a court of nobles and merchants in a country to the south, gathering intel for Konoha’s records. A lot of longer missions were recon and weren’t really all that dangerous. Sure, he was sent to spy, but he was a peaceful spy. Konoha hadn’t been at war; they’d just been trying to gauge whether or not they needed to be at war. The answer was a resounding no. The country was peaceful, if a little uptight. No harm, no foul. 

Iruka’s mission, though, must have been far more serious. The dossiers were wrapped up in so much red tape, Mizuki couldn’t even hope of learning what he’d been sent to do, let alone where or why. It seemed strange to him that the Hokage had sent Iruka on such a high-ranking mission, but it was clear he’d never know unless Iruka himself told him. He would have to find a way to get Iruka’s guard down, but Mizuki wasn’t a patient person, especially when it came to helping his friends. The only way Iruka would heal is if someone cared enough – and was persistent enough – to crack his shell. 

__

Iruka hadn’t slept a wink, but he didn’t say so to Mizuki. It would only have worried him more, and he didn’t want to call off the party. They ate ramen in companionable silence and did a few shots together for the road. The booze in Iruka’s cabinet was quality and went down smoother than anything, taking the edge off of life just a little bit. It pooled like heat in his stomach, and as they started towards the bar, he began to feel hopeful that things were on their way back to normal.

The bar was crowded with people, the music lively and loud. Iruka moved through his gathered friends and acquaintances with a smile on his face, accepting handshakes and slaps on the back as he ventured, slowly but surely, towards the bar. “Iruka!” the man tending bar crowed when he finally made it all the way up, “Welcome home, kid!” 

Iruka didn’t even have time to place a drink order before two bottles were thrust into his hands. The bartender winked as he explained, “I’ve got a long list of pre-bought drinks with your name on ‘em.”

Iruka beamed. “Thanks.” He looked appraisingly at the one in his left hand and, at the jeered encouragement of the people around him, downed it all in a few long gulps. Another cheer rose from the crowd, and he gave them a big grin in reply. 

Mizuki pushed his way forward. “Not letting you pace yourself, huh?”

Iruka shook his head. “Not our friends.”

“Not _ your _friends,” he corrected with a wink, “I’ve still got to pay for my own.”

“Here,” Iruka said, thrusting the other bottle at Mizuki, “I don’t really like this kind anyway.”

The bartender immediately handed him another. Iruka accepted gratefully, feeling giggly and as light as air, and began to mingle with the crowd. He was surprised at how many people had shown up, truth told. He knew he wasn’t unpopular by any stretch, but there were quite a lot of ninja present he barely knew. They all seemed excited to see him, but he couldn’t help but wonder how many of them just appreciated a good party. It didn't really matter, of course. At least for tonight, they were all friends.

Suddenly, an arm hooked itself around his waist, and _ Iruka squirmed, his body rebelling, attempting to flee even though he knew his arms and legs were chained to the bed. Hot breath on his neck raised every hair on his body in a blind panic, and then a rough hand jerked his knee up, opening him to the man’s assault. The manacles tore into his raw skin, making him scream in anguish. His voice echoed, reverberating against the stone walls, but no one could hear him. No one could ever hear him, and even if they could, help would never come… _

“Shots!!” Kurenai screeched into his ear.

Reality came barreling into Iruka, and his breath returned to him in a dizzying rush. Luckily, no one seemed to take notice that anything had been amiss, least of all Kurenai, who was still hanging off of him, her soft chest pressing into his side. “Shots!” she demanded again. 

Iruka managed a choked laugh. “Yeah, sure!” he yelled and allowed her to drag him away. 

Back up at the bar, the server was lining up a staggering number of shot glasses, each holding a sizable pour of clear liquor. People were eagerly queueing up, so Kurenai had to shove to get them to the front. Then, with an impressive amount of grace for someone so thoroughly trashed, she leaped onto the bar and announced in her most authoritative tone, “Listen up!!” 

At once, a hush fell over the room. 

“Thanks to everyone for coming out tonight! We’re here to welcome our best buddy Iruka back home! If you haven’t bought him a drink yet, what are you waiting for?!” 

A drunken cheer went up. Iruka blushed and dodged as more people tried to thump him on the back.

Kurenai raised her shot glass high, and everyone rushed to do the same. “To Iruka!!”

The bar roared, and Iruka’s head swam. _ The noise was deafening when the explosion went off. Iruka dove for the floor and watched as the wall exploded inwards, a cloud of dust and debris reducing visibility almost completely. _ He managed to get his shot to his lips before everything began to blur and a shrill ringing began in his ears. _ Men poured in from the hallway to find the source of the commotion and fell, dead, when the enemy ninja let loose a barrage of kunai. A few girls shrieked as they were caught in the crossfire. Iruka remained low and out of sight, fighting back his panic and forcing his brain to remember the faces of the attackers. _

When Iruka came to, he was sitting at a table in the corner, and he wasn’t alone. 

“No one noticed,” Kakashi told him, nudging a bottle of beer into his hands, “Here.”

Iruka glanced at him, puzzled. “Hatake? Uh, thank you.”

Kakashi shook his head slightly. From behind his mask, Iruka couldn’t tell whether he was frowning or not. “Call me Kakashi.”

Iruka ignored that. “What just happened?”

Kakashi shrugged. “You were overwhelmed. I pulled you over here to take a break.”

“Oh,” Iruka said simply, then sighed. “I guess I am a little overwhelmed. I didn’t realize this many people would be here.”

“You’re a crowd favorite,” Kakashi replied. He looked over at Iruka, holding his gaze steadily as he added, “Everyone wants a piece of you tonight.” 

Iruka bit down gently on the inside of his cheek, then took a slug from the beer bottle, resisting the urge to cough as it went down. It tasted acidic and strange, a brand he wasn’t familiar with, maybe something imported. When he felt comfortable speaking, he said, “Thanks for your help,” and stood. 

Kakashi’s uncovered eye followed him, his body language inscrutable as ever. 

Iruka hovered awkwardly for a moment, waiting for some undetermined response, and then slipped away, back into the crowd. 

__

Something was terribly wrong. Why had Tsunade discharged him?

__

Iruka was well and thoroughly in the bag by the time the few remaining stragglers were kicked out of the bar. He leaned heavily against Mizuki, giggling even though nothing was funny as they slowly made their way back to Iruka’s apartment. 

“Can you believe Hayate really did that thing?! With the beer and the shoe, right there in front of everyone?” Mizuki dissolved into laughter, adjusting his grip on Iruka to keep the man from sliding to the ground. 

Iruka laughed and hiccupped. “That guy’s crazy,” he slurred, “Y’know what I can’t believe? Why was Kurenai yelling like that?”

“You didn’t see what Asuma did!” 

“Man, what a disaster that was.” 

“Are you kidding?! That was legendary, man!”

Iruka stumbled as he lost his footing, but Mizuki had a strong hold on him. He kicked his legs forward somewhat uselessly. “Damn, why don’t you just carry me if you’re that strong?” 

He yelped as he was hoisted up into the air. Mizuki planted Iruka over his shoulder and continued carrying him as if he were a training dummy or a particularly loud sack of flour. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” Iruka protested, but he couldn’t manage a reproachful tone with the way he was giggling, “It’s not fair, you’re bigger than me!”

“Bigger, stronger,… How would you survive without me?” Mizuki clucked his tongue. “Honestly, ‘Ru, you’re lucky you’re so cute.”

“I’m what?”

Mizuki didn’t answer. He started whistling instead. Iruka allowed himself to be carried, thinking warm, happy, drunk thoughts the whole way home. 

__

Iruka woke up from a dreamless sleep with cotton in his mouth and a throbbing head. He lay awake in bed, attempting vainly to banish his hangover through force of will alone, but when that proved fruitless, he forced his body out of bed and all but fell into the shower, peeling his clothes away as he groped blindly for the taps. 

The frigid cold water was electrifying. Of course the water heater would be slower than usual; he hadn’t used it in over a year. Now thoroughly awake, Iruka reached for his bar of soap, but once he started lathering, the familiarity of his favorite sandalwood fragrance caused a lump to rise in his throat. He gasped several times in lieu of actually crying over something so innocuous and tried to get ahold of himself, but it was more difficult than anything else he’d endured yet. Here he finally was, back in his old apartment, using his usual soap. The towels were soft and familiar. Even the erratic pulse of the water pressure coming out of the long-dormant pipes caused his chest to constrict with its familiarity. He had come home alive, and it was unbelievable. 

Iruka was crying in earnest now. The water had finished heating up and was close to scalding. He adjusted it with shaking hands. He was home; he was safe. 

_ I’m sorry. _

He remained in the shower long enough to calm down and get clean. Then, he changed into some loose pajamas and a robe and resolved to get a pot of coffee going. Once he made it out of his bedroom, however, he became aware that the apartment already smelled like coffee. Curiously, he ambled into the kitchen. There was a full pot of brewed coffee resting on the stove, the scent of coffee and cinnamon thick in the air. Iruka let out a sigh involuntarily. He’d missed coffee. 

There was a mug set out on the counter, light blue ceramic with a pattern of clouds. A piece of paper had been folded into an origami star and rested inside of it. Iruka unfolded it curiously. _ Good morning, _was all it said. Iruka frowned. Has Mizuki done this for him? He didn’t own grounds with cinnamon, so whoever had made the coffee had bought it special. Iruka placed the note aside and poured himself a cup. It had to have been Mizuki. He was the only other person with a key to Iruka’s apartment.

__

Mizuki found himself idling outside of the mission room, ogling the pretty girl who ran the desk. He didn’t particularly want to go on a mission, but he hadn’t felt like doing anything else, either. He was too hungover to train but too restless to continue taking it easy. 

Kakashi walked into the room with a scroll tucked under one arm and a dog under the other. Mizuki sneered behind his hand, pretending to yawn. He’d never had a good poker face, and he’d never been able to stand Hatake Kakashi either. The man was an insufferable know-it-all, and he had almost no respect for the people around him. Really, who brought a dog into the mission room? Even the Akamaru’s knew to have their animals wait outside. 

“Good morning, Kakashi,” the desk ninja simpered, holding out both hands to accept his scroll. 

“Yo,” was his simple and – in Mizuki’s opinion – insubstantial reply. When the cute desk girl blushed at you like that, it was almost rude not to flirt with her. 

The girl unrolled the scroll and frowned. “Kakashi,” she said, this time a little reproachful, “This report is covered in slobber.”

Kakashi jostled the dog under his arm. “Shiba helped me write it.”

Mizuki rolled his eyes. 

__

After turning in his mission scroll – which was only two weeks overdue this time – Kakashi made his way over to Hokage tower. Tsunade had summoned him two hours ago, which meant she wasn’t expecting him for at least another thirty minutes. 

He was concerned about Iruka. They didn’t work together due to their rank, so ordinarily Kakashi would have kept out of the situation and left it in Tsunade’s capable hands, but Kakashi knew a thing or two about PTSD, and he suspected the mission dossiers Iruka had generated would remain classified for the foreseeable future. That meant Iruka was limited as to who he could go to for help, if he even realized he needed to talk to someone at all. Kakashi wasn’t offering, of course, but still, it had to be noted that _ somebody _ had to do _ something. _

The coffee hadn’t meant all that much, or at least, that’s what Kakashi was telling himself. It was a simple thing to slip through the window. Iruka’s wards were no hindrance to him, although the child-like traps did give him a moment of small amusement. It didn’t mean he was taking a special interest in Umino Iruka, even if he had let the man’s penchant for cinnamon influence his decision on which grounds to purchase.

Anyway. 

Kakashi couldn’t remember his first long-term assignment. He’d been on so many and from such a young age that they all blurred together in his memory. Still, there was no way to forget the feeling of loneliness, of isolation, especially when sent to a country where no one spoke your native language. It was a simple thing, and even if you understood the local tongue, it didn’t help the homesickness, sometimes so real as to be a physical ache in your chest. He also remembered the nights undercover, behind enemy lines and on constant alert, knowing at any moment if you dropped your guard, you would be as good as dead. But how could you cope with a danger that was always present? The short answer was, you didn’t. You managed as best as you could, shutting off your emotional responses one at a time until you were almost as unfeeling as a statue. 

And then you came back, and you tried your best to turn everything back on. But with the return of emotion comes the pain, the nightmares. Sometimes, it was easier to remain stone. 

Forty-five minutes later found Kakashi standing in front of Tsunade, who was sipping, thin-lipped and tensed from a sake cup in spite of the early hour. Coincidentally, she had what looked like Iruka’s dossiers spread out in front of her. The hand not holding the cup was clenched on top of her desk, her knuckles popping as she flexed them with methodical slowness. 

“Hokage,” Kakashi greeted respectfully, bowing low as he did so.

“Hatake,” she replied lamely, inclining her head to him without looking up, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“It seems to me like you might already know.” Kakashi walked forward and tapped two fingers on the open page of the notebook.

Tsunade rolled her shoulders and neck, then looked up. “Something about Umino?”

“Why’s he not still under surveillance from the medical staff?”

Tsunade blinked slowly. “What makes you think he’s not?”

“I-,” Kakashi faltered. 

“Shizune was at the bar with him last night. She told me all about it.” Tsunade flipped a page. “_ All _about it.”

Kakashi’s visible eyebrow rose. “Then you know he’s experiencing flashbacks?”

“What would you have me do, Kakashi?” She sighed. “He’s a shinobi. We all have flashbacks. Iruka’s fresh off a mission. No one’s surprised.”

Kakashi bit his tongue. 

Tsunade raised her eyebrows. “I’ll ask you again. What would you have me do?”

“He needs to talk to someone.”

“I agree,” she said blandly.

Sometimes, talking to Tsunade made him feel like an idiot. “He hasn’t so far.”

“It’s been a day. Give him time.” Tsunade scratched the side of her neck with a long, painted fingernail, looking up at him appraisingly. “Have you ever talked to anyone?”

“I’ve talked to you.”

She arched a brow. “Debriefings do not count as therapy.”

Kakashi shrugged. “It helped, either way.”

Tsunade sighed. “So you say.” She steepled her fingers and stared pensively between her hands. “If you’re worried about him, try talking to him. I don’t see what you want me to do.”

“I want you to talk to him.”

“I’ll debrief him when he stops passing out in my office.”

Kakashi contained his concern with some effort. “He fainted?”

“Yup, right after I asked him to name and describe his captors. We already had a few of them on record, and his written journals are very-,” she paused, seeming to suppress a shudder, “Very thorough. Still, we need the verbal debrief before we can do anything with the information.” 

Then, Tsunade laid her palms flat on the table, looking down at the dossiers. “I see an issue with who he confides in, of course. His friend Mizuki can’t be allowed to know even the most basic details of the mission, let alone the things Iruka will need to discuss.” She gave Kakashi a long, meaningful look. 

“I understand, Hokage.” Kakashi stuck his hands in his pockets and bowed his head. 

“Do you now?” she asked, sort of incredulously, but waved him away all the same. 

Instead of leaving through the door, Kakashi disappeared in a puff of smoke and reappeared atop the Hokage tower. He knew she hated that, so if she was going to have the last word, he would have the last laugh.

__

Tsunade sighed and polished off her sake. She smoothed a hand over a wrinkled, water-stained page of Umino’s mission journal. Unspeakable things had befallen the Chunin on his year-long mission, and though she’d learned long ago to harden her heart against feelings of pity or guilt, she couldn’t help but blame herself – just a little bit – for the young man’s current plight. 

He’d known, of course, what he was signing himself up for, but that hardly mattered now.


	2. Kakashi Takes an Interest

The market was like a living, breathing thing on Saturdays, when all of Konoha did its shopping. From sun up to sun down, people moved in rhythm to the noise of the shopkeepers’ barking, wagon wheels rolling on the fine gravel stones, fryers and grills sizzling and popping as fat from roasting meat dripped onto hot coals. The sounds of commerce were a cacophony, and that was to say nothing of the crowds themselves. People were energetic on weekends, eager to have a whole day of leisure ahead of them once they finished up with their chores. 

Iruka usually enjoyed the market on a Saturday. He had a habit of arriving early in the morning, milling around before the roads became too congested to actually get anything done. He would load his canvas bag with produce and packages of fresh, fatty pork, then enjoy a skewer of salted beef before making his way home to put everything away. When Mizuki joined him, he would usually buy a few specialty items and prepare an elaborate lunch for them both. Iruka enjoyed cooking, though he could only make a few basic dishes, but Mizuki always seemed to appreciate it. 

The market didn’t hold its usual appeal for Iruka when he finally arrived, empty canvas bag under his arm. His sleep had been, once again, completely devoid of dreams or nightmares of any kind, which Iruka was grateful for, but it had left him with a hollow feeling in his chest. He felt like a rubber band that had been stretched too far, too many times and now couldn’t function properly anymore. And even though he hadn’t been tired this morning, finding the energy to get out of bed had proved almost impossible. Even now, he was having trouble finding a point to much of anything. Get out of bed, to what end? He didn’t feel like shopping, didn’t feel like seeing Mizuki, and certainly didn’t have much of an appetite. 

Nevertheless, Iruka loaded his bag with all of the things he usually bought, but he skipped his favorite satay stall in favor of hurrying home. All of the sounds and smells were overwhelming, and a headache was developing at the back of his skull. 

He would go home, put his groceries away, but then what? 

_ I’m going home.  _

For the past year, home had been all Iruka thought about. He comforted himself with thoughts of home when the thought of anything else was more painful than he could bear. In his darkest moments, he’d made desperate bargains with gods that hadn’t been listening. If he could just see home one more time, he’d give up almost anything, anything to be back. 

And now that he was, he found the whole experience strangely devoid of emotion, almost as if he was seeing things through someone else’s perspective. He looked out at the crowded market and remembered how he’d daydreamed about fried pork and beef on bamboo sticks when  _ he’d been on his fourth day of starvation. The hunger gnawed at his ribs like angry dogs, his stomach snarling for something, anything to eat. He knew he was delirious, and all of the tricks in the book hadn’t taken his mind off the aching, cramping pain.  _

Iruka shuddered as the memory surfaced, irrepressible in his mind. 

_ His wrists were tied together with thick cords of rope that dug into his skin until they bled. He was dragged to the man’s chambers, blindfolded and gagged, and was unceremoniously shoved to his knees. Iruka felt the man’s presence over him, smelled the dirty musk of his sweat as grimy fingers hooked into his mouth. Two men held him by the arms, and he committed their names and vocal patterns to memory. He would need to identify and record them in the dossier if anything of interest surfaced in the conversations that would follow. The man was always in the mood to talk afterwards…  _

“Hey, Iruka!” 

Iruka startled as Kakashi came strolling up to him. In his hands he held a ripe, green melon that had rolled out of the canvas bag where he’d dropped it. 

“Is everything alright?”

A shiver rolled through Iruka’s body, starting at his feet and travelling up. He cleared his throat, and the pain in his head flared. “Everything’s fine.”  _ I’m fine.  _ “I just dropped my bag, I guess.”

Kakashi waited as Iruka scooped up his produce and put everything back into place. When Iruka held his hand out for the melon, Kakashi didn’t move. “Need a hand getting these things back to your place?”

“No, I’m quite alright,” he said, “Thank you, though.”

Kakashi continued holding the melon. “Want to get lunch with me?”

Iruka stared. “What are you doing?”

“What?”

Iruka shook his head. “Sorry, that was rude. I mean, why would you want to get lunch with me?”

Kakashi shrugged. “I suppose I don’t have a particularly compelling reason.”

The two continued to stare at one another until, finally, Iruka broke with a quiet sigh. “Alright. Would you want to come over for lunch? I’ve just bought some udon.”

“That would be just fine,” Kakashi replied, face impassive as ever. 

__

On the walk to Iruka’s apartment, Kakashi was aware that they were being watched. Someone had spotted them at the market, evidently, and had been following them from a distance ever since. He didn’t recognize the chakra signal, but he knew it was a man who didn’t necessarily mean them harm. All the same, Kakashi didn’t appreciate being spied on. He thought it was curious that someone would be tailing Iruka, as no one would be foolish enough to try to follow Kakashi himself. 

Kakashi resolved to ignore it, figuring it wasn’t really his business whether or not Iruka was being stalked by an ex-lover or something equally asinine. All the same, he committed the chakra signal to memory and resolved to keep an eye out for it in the future. 

They reached Iruka’s apartment, by which point Iruka was looking quite pale. His expression was pinched, clearly in pain, but Kakashi could detect nothing physically wrong with him through casual observation. 

“Would you prefer to lie down while I get started on lunch?” Kakashi suggested, “I’m pretty good at udon.”

Iruka frowned. “I’m happy to make it for you.”

“Nonsense, I’m the one imposing on you,” he replied cheerfully, “The least I can do is prepare the meal, since you bought the groceries.” 

Iruka looked dubious but ultimately agreed. He slumped down into one of the chairs at the tiny kitchen table, one arm propping up his head. “Want anything to drink? I’ve got some things in the fridge.”

Kakashi opened up the refrigerator and grabbed two cans of beer. “A little day-drinking is alright on a day off, isn't it?”

“Ugh,” Iruka grunted, accepting the can with a curl of his lip, “Alcohol is not really my friend right now.”

“One will be relaxing,” Kakashi insisted, “Although, I have to admit, I’ve never seen anyone put it away like you.”

Iruka grimaced as he took a sip. “Yeah, I don’t know why I did that.”

“It seemed like you were having fun.”

Iruka shrugged. “I have no way of knowing.”

Kakashi raised his visible eyebrow. “You blacked out?”

“Big time.”

“Interesting.”

The sounds of the frying noodles temporarily interrupted their conversation. Kakashi hummed a little as he chopped the garlic to add to the pan, then the peppers and leeks. He cooked very infrequently these days because he lived in the barracks, and there was a communal kitchen where some enterprising shinobi were always making meals in bulk for everyone. On the rare occasion he was coerced into helping out, he made sure to make such a righteous disaster of the place that they’d be loathe to ask again. 

That he was cooking for Iruka now, of his own accord, meant very little. He was simply using it as a means to get closer to Iruka, to further his own goals of getting the other man to open up to him. Fondness had nothing to do with it. He wasn’t charmed by Iruka, not by any means. Certainly, the way he tied his hair up into a high ponytail wasn’t particularly striking, nor was the way his nose wrinkled when he was thinking about something. His clear, expressive brown eyes, dark enough that some might liken them to a kind of decadent dessert or other, did not inspire Kakashi in any particular away, nor did his full, dusky lips, lightly chapped from his habit of scraping them with his front teeth. 

No, certainly not any of that. 

Kakashi spooned the noodles into two bowls and took the seat across from Iruka. “I hope it’s palatable!”

Iruka poked at it with a chopstick appraisingly. “I’m sure it’s great, Kakashi.” Then, he looked up, and a light flush dusted his cheeks. “Do you want me to, um, look away while you eat? I-,”

“Don’t worry about me,” Kakashi insisted with a dismissive wave, “Just do whatever comes naturally.”

Iruka continued to prod his noodles with a chopstick, then took a few hesitant bites. He complimented Kakashi’s cooking but didn’t seem eager to eat much of it. Kakashi didn’t take it personally.  Eventually, he just gave up, and with an overly formal apology, wrapped up his portion of the meal and tucked it away in his fridge. He opened himself another beer and returned to his seat, drinking in silence and not looking at Kakashi.

“You know,” Kakashi tried, “We could talk about it, if you want to.”

“Talk about what?” Iruka asked quite innocently. 

“Your mission,” he clarified, “How are you holding up?”

Iruka didn’t look up at him. “Everything’s fine.”

Kakashi hummed thoughtfully. “I’m glad to hear that. Most people are far from fine after returning from a year-long mission, especially an S-rank.”

“You know it was an S-rank?” Iruka asked cautiously.

Kakashi shrugged. “They usually don’t let Chunin take those. We were all surprised when they let you have it.”

Iruka was deathly silent. The color that had been returning to his face vanished in an instant. 

Kakashi continued. “I don’t know the details of the mission. They don’t release dossiers until they’re complete, and as I understand, you haven’t given your verbal report to Tsunade yet.”

“I didn’t realize you knew so much.”

Kakashi sat back in his chair. “Eventually, I’ll know everything. It’s my understanding your intel is going to inform an assassination of some kind. As soon as you give your verbal report, they’re probably going to brief me for it. Hell, I might even get to be there when you give it, if I’m lucky.”

Iruka’s eyes went wide. “Oh.”

Kakashi shot up from his chair and caught Iruka as he lost consciousness. 

__

When Iruka came to, he was lying on his couch with a cold cloth over his forehead. The moment he stirred, Kakashi’s eye was staring down at him. 

“Everything’s not fine, then?”

Iruka shut his eyes, partially against the sight of Kakashi, partially against the uncomfortable question he couldn’t answer, and mostly from his worsening headache. “Did I pass out?”

“Sure did,” Kakashi replied, oddly cheerful, and stood up from his crouched position beside Iruka’s shoulder. “I think you might not be eating enough.”

_ That’s certainly true,  _ thought Iruka. “I’ll try to finish my udon, then, I guess.”

“Good man,” Kakashi said. He was gone and back in an instant with the cold noodles. “Do you want me to stick around?”

“I’m sorry, Kakashi. This can’t have been a fun afternoon for you.”

Iruka felt terrible. Kakashi had been trying to be friendly with him at the market, but he was probably fed up with him by now. Iruka had done nothing but be impolite and impose upon him, and worst of all, he’d lost consciousness mid-conversation. He was humiliated, and his headache was getting worse by the minute. All he wanted to do was be alone, but he didn’t see how he could get rid of Kakashi without ensuring the man would never speak to him again. 

“No, it wasn’t fun,” Kakashi agreed, but he didn’t seem upset by the admission, “Sometimes, it’s not supposed to be fun.”

“What?” Iruka asked, not following. 

“You need help, Iruka,” Kakashi said, point-blank, “I want to help you.”

_ I’m fine. I’m sorry. I’m fine. I’m sorry. _

“Why do you want to help me?”

Kakashi pinched some noodles between his chopsticks and held them up to Iruka, whose eyes went wide with mortification. He didn’t open his mouth. Kakashi continued, saying, “You won’t be able to debrief with Tsunade if you keep fainting every time you think about your mission. I won’t be able to complete my mission until you debrief with Tsunade. It’s perfectly logical when you think about it. I need you to do your job so I can do mine.”

Iruka slapped the chopsticks out of Kakashi’s hands. Even with his superior reflexes, Kakashi seemed surprised enough to let it happen. “Get out.”

“Get out?” he repeated. 

Iruka pushed himself into a seated position, covering his face with his hands. “I didn’t mean to snap. I’m not feeling very well.” He was mortified. How could he have done that? Kakashi had said something insensitive, but he hadn’t deserved that. “I can’t be a good host to you, and I’m afraid I’ll keep embarrassing myself if you stay.”

“Iruka,” Kakashi tried, his voice gratingly patient, a little patronizing in its sincerity, “I need to help you. If I don’t, who will?”

From behind his fingers, Iruka glared. He dropped his hands. “What is that supposed to mean?!”

Kakashi was still smiling gently. “We’re in a unique position right now to help each other. If you confide in me, I’ll be gaining necessary information for my mission while you achieve catharsis. Additionally, we aren’t friends, so you won’t be losing face with anyone important to you.”

Iruka was boiling. “You know what? I mean it. Get out of my apartment, Kakashi.”

“Meet me tomorrow,” Kakashi tried, “Tomorrow night, at Ichiraku.”

“Get out!”

Kakashi stayed for a few, tense seconds to glare back at Iruka. Then, he disappeared in a puff of smoke, and Iruka’s wards began to clang and wail. Reflexively, he curled in on himself against the noise, sounding so much like  _ screaming, so much screaming. Maru’s cries tore themselves free of her throat as the guard bore down on her. Maru, whose tiny body wasn’t even half Iruka’s height, whose cheerful, expressive eyes were now bloodshot and terrified. The guards hands closed around her throat to silence her screams, and Iruka lunged for them in the same instant, ripping a stone loose from the floor and driving it through the guard’s head with all the force in his body.  _

__

Kakashi stood outside of Iruka’s apartment and sighed as he felt the other man’s panic, palpable even through the wall. He reached a hand out and pushed his own chakra into Iruka’s wards, dismantling them with the sheer force of his own power. At once, the noise quieted, and Kakashi heard the sounds of Iruka sobbing behind the door. 

He sighed again, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

Another ninja came running up the stairs and stopped on the landing, glaring angrily at Kakashi. He pointed an accusatory finger, puffing himself up as he demanded, “What are you doing here, Hatake?”

That’s right, this was Mizuki. Kakashi had seen him in the mission room the other day, lounging around and making himself a nuisance. He was Iruka’s close friend, so it was natural for him to be visiting. That didn’t explain why he’d been following them earlier, though. The chakra signal matched the one from earlier. 

Kakashi brushed passed him without acknowledgement. Another task had been added to his plate.

__

Iruka looked up at the sound of someone knocking on his door. His first thought was that Kakashi had come back to apologize, but then he heard Mizuki’s voice calling to him. 

“Iruka? Hey, Iruka!”

Iruka hurried to answer the door, scrubbing his face on his sleeve even though it would be impossible to hide the fact that he’d been crying. 

“Iruka!” When the door opened, Mizuki fell into the room, clutching Iruka tightly by the shoulders. He pulled him into a strong hug. “Is everything alright? Why was Kakashi here?” 

“He wanted to talk to me about debriefing with Tsunade.” Iruka didn’t see the point in lying to Mizuki. He’d always been able to see right through him, anyway.

“’Ru, are you crying?” he asked, voice tender as he cupped Iruka’s face in his hands. “Did he make you cry?”

Iruka frowned. “No one made me cry.”

“You’re crying.”

“I’m just tired, I think.” He wiped his eyes on his sleeve again. “And I don’t want to talk about it.”

Mizuki frowned. “I think you need to talk about it.”

Kakashi had certainly thought so, the bastard. Why had his words bothered him so? He hadn’t said anything that was untrue, but it was more in the way he said it. What kind of person just came out and said that they weren’t your friend, and they had no opinion of you? It was humiliating.

He sighed, covering Mizuki’s hands with his own. “It’s just, I guess, I’ve been away for so long.” He lowered his gaze, leaning closer to his friend. “I’ve missed so much about Konoha.”

Mizuki brought him into another tight embrace. “I know you did.” He ran his hands along Iruka’s sides. “Why don’t we take a nap? You seem tired.”

Iruka tensed at the touch, but for once he was able to override his panic. This was Mizuki, after all. He knew Mizuki. He trusted him. 

They went together to Iruka’s bedroom and laid down together on the small bed. Iruka nestled into Mizuki’s arms, taking comfort in the feeling of his warmth and presence. They’d always had a bit of a strange relationship ever since they met on assignment a few years back. A freezing night, a single tent, and both of them delirious from exhaustion had been the beginning of things, and they weren’t always physical together, but something deeper existed between them than mere companionship. Mizuki always claimed to be straight and just called Iruka his exception. Iruka didn’t know what he was because sex had never really played an important role in his life. 

_ Iruka was summoned to meet his mark on his very first day at the compound. He held himself with dignity as he was escorted by two guards to the war lord’s chambers. They’d dressed him in simple robes, the same as the other captives in the harem. The material was light and breezy, of fine quality considering they were purchased for slaves.  _

_ “So, you are my newest pet,” the war lord said when Iruka was forced to kneel before him.  _

_ Iruka remained silent.  _

_ The lord frowned. “He does not speak?” _

_ “He’s foreign, sire,” one of the guards replied.  _

_ The lord stood before Iruka and gripped his chin between powerful fingers, hard enough to hurt. Iruka didn’t make a sound. This seemed to bother the lord, who frowned deeply and jerked Iruka’s head to the side, examining him. “He’s lovely, in any case,” he commented, sounding bored, “But I do not want him now. In time, perhaps. Bring me my favorite.” _

_ “Sir,” both guards said in union, and then they jerked Iruka to his feet. He was led from the chamber, but instead of returning him to the room where the harem was kept, the guards brought Iruka out a back door and into a small courtyard.  _

_ Iruka was burning to retaliate, to jerk away and fight back, but he held himself in check. When the guard holding him forced him to his knees and the other moved to undo his belt, he panicked, and his control left him. He jerked in his captors hands and was free momentarily, but then a sharp blow to the back of his head stunned him and allowed the guards to regain control.  _

_ “I don’t think he’s gonna let you,” one said to the other, “He’s gotta be broken in first.” _

_ “What better way than with a little discipline,” said the first, “Hold him steady.” _

_ “I am,” the first protested, “Don’t use him all up.” _

_ Logically, Iruka knew this is what he’d come here to do. His mission was to infiltrate the harem, gather evidence and names, and develop a detailed map of the war lord’s compound. He had a year to gather as much intel as he could before Konoha shinobi would come to break him free. Iruka knew all this, and he’d been trained thoroughly to withstand such unspeakable things as what was about to happen to him.  _

_ Afterwards, he would come to understand that being fed was the reward for allowing himself to be used, or perhaps for being desirable enough to attract attention. He wasn't hungry, but he forced himself to eat, anyway. His body ached, and he couldn’t stop shaking, but he was here to do a job, and he would see it through.  _

_ __ _ __   
  


Iruka awoke suddenly, terrified, and kicked hard against whatever was holding him down. He rolled and landed hard on the floor. His shoulder burned, and he gave a small cry of pain as he sat up, poised to strike again. 

“Ow, fuck, Iruka,” Mizuki complained, staring down at him with a hand protecting his middle. “What was that for?”

_ Hands on his body, holding him down…  _

“Get away from me!!”

“Iruka, hey!”

_ Too much. Everything, all too much.  _

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

_ Get away or die trying. Get away. Get away! _

“You’re still asleep, Iruka, wake the fuck  _ up _ !”

Iruka shuddered, hard, and dropped his kunai. Where had he gotten a kunai? He was backed into the corner, facing Mizuki, who was still sitting on the bed with a desperate look on his face. The sun streamed through the cracks in the blinds, bathing the scene in a cleansing, exposing light. 

Iruka put a hand to his face. “What happened?”

Mizuki rose and stood over Iruka. “You were in a nightmare.”

“I was?”

Hesitantly, Mizuki reached out to touch Iruka’s shoulders. Iruka gave a violent, involuntary shudder, and he dropped his hand. 

“What is going on with you?”

Iruka slid to the floor. “I’m sorry.”

_ I’m sorry. I’m sorry. But I’m fine.  _

“Don’t be sorry.” Mizuki knelt down next to him. “Just talk to me.”

Iruka looked up. “I’m fine.”

_ I’m sorry. _

_ __ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to those of you who have commented your surprise/concern at how i've chosen to characterize our man Mizuki - ... just wait and see, babes ;) no Mizuki apologist i -- thanks to everyone who has commented, given kudos, and enjoyed this story so far! :)


	3. Iruka is Fine

A few weeks went by, and summer slipped slowly into fall. The leaves began to change colors, and a slight chill in the air had everyone switching to their long-sleeved uniforms on the colder days. Iruka always wore his long-sleeved uniform, preferring the way the material regulated his body temperature. Mizuki usually went sleeveless unless he couldn’t get away with it. He was one of the few still hanging on in spite of the weather.

Mizuki hadn’t been coming around as much. Iruka couldn’t exactly blame him. He was Iruka’s closest friend, but he had always gotten the impression that he was more of a convenience for Mizuki than anything. Especially now that he was inadvertently trying to kill everyone who touched him, Iruka imagined there were far easier partners for Mizuki to spend time with. The rejection stung, and it made Iruka angry, but it was the least of his worries. 

He’d reported to the Hokage three times in as many weeks, and each time he’d been unable to deliver a complete report. Though he’d gotten over the fainting, there was a new issue: he couldn’t remember. The major details were mostly there, but a key few were missing from his memory, and most minor details eluded him. Tsunade couldn’t compel him to read his journals to jog his memory, either. Imperative as it was that he complete his report, he just couldn’t bring himself to read his dossiers. 

Iruka took his frustrations out on the training grounds. He’d been spending more and more time there, and he was finding it therapeutic, in its own way. Training was one of the few things that took his mind off of his mission, of the lord and what he’d gone through. When he’d worked himself half to death, when he was sweating bullets and every breath burned his lungs, that was when he felt the most at peace with his life. As far as a coping skill went, at least it was a healthy one, right?

He wasn’t usually alone on the grounds, but he preferred to act as if he was. He’d sparred a few times with Mizuki, when he could be bothered to show up, and he’d seen Kakashi exactly once. Kakashi was also avoiding him, it seemed, which suited Iruka just fine. The less nosy shinobi trying to pry into his business, the better. At least, that was what he was telling himself. 

__

Kakashi gazed down from his position high up in a tree, watching Iruka meticulously wrap his arms and hands in boxer’s tape. He longed to intervene but was disinclined to give away his position, lest Iruka realize he’d been coming to the grounds every day to observe him. He longed to take the Chunin in his arms, possibly to shake him, but mostly to remind him that he was still a flesh and blood being who needed to experience comfort and deserved to be treated with care. 

Iruka was abusing himself, and it was as clear as day. Kakashi watched Iruka train from sun up to sun down, saw his ribs prominently through the skin-tight material of his uniform shirt. He never brought a lunch and rarely went to the market. He wasn’t eating, he was barely sleeping, and the overtraining was going to put him in the hospital soon. He’d shown himself to Iruka exactly once, two weeks prior, and invited him to spar. Even Iruka’s fighting style was different. He was ruthless now, fighting bloodthirsty and reckless because of the oceans of rage and pain bottled up inside of him. It all had to come out somehow. 

Kakashi had put him on his back every single time. Iruka had broken several knuckles before he called it quits. He’d been bitter at the time and had showed more tooth to Kakashi than he’d thought the man possessed. There was something personal in the way Iruka dismissed him, something that made Kakashi think perhaps he’d done more harm than good the day he’d pushed Iruka to talk. 

When Iruka started his warm-up, Kakashi pulled the latest Icha Icha out of the inner pocket of his tactical vest. It was the brand new one, just released that morning, and he’d eagerly snatched a copy from the delivery truck the night before, sliding an envelope containing the appropriate payment under the shop door. He hadn’t wanted to risk going to the shop this morning because then Iruka would have beaten him to the training grounds. 

Why exactly that was so important was difficult to say. Kakashi was finding it harder and harder to explain away his Iruka-stalking as purely work related. Almost without his own permission, he’d started to care on a personal level. Watching Iruka suffer was painful for Kakashi, and not just because he could relate to him emotionally. Kakashi cared about Iruka, cared in a way that was starting to feel more closely to friendship than it did to a work relationship. 

The thought was perturbing, to say the least. Kakashi wasn’t used to caring about people. He’d learned the hard way what came of making friends with fellow ninja. It was a lesson he’d only needed reminding of once, and seeing Iruka as he was now, he knew the man was far too volatile to involve himself with if he wanted to remain unscathed. Iruka was the emotional equivalent of an uncontrolled grease fire, and he’d already driven away his friend Mizuki. 

Although, in truth, Mizuki probably hadn’t been a very good friend to begin with. Kakashi did _ not _like that guy. 

__

Mizuki, having no real excuse for not training, decided to visit the grounds to get a little workout in. He hadn’t taken a mission in a few weeks, so he was starting to get a little flabby. A little practice to firm up, and he’d be back to physique in no time at all. 

He flexed his shoulders in a small stretch as he walked, enjoying the loose feeling in his muscles from a night of passion with a fiery young nin he’d met at the bar. She’d have to remain in his rotation, at least for a few more nights. It had been a lot of work to please her but well worth the effort, as she had rewarded him quite generously for it. 

Mizuki’s face fell slightly as he saw Iruka had already commandeered his favorite spot on the grounds. Truthfully, he’d been avoiding Iruka ever since the night he’d nearly killed him. It wasn’t anything personal, but Mizuki wasn’t the type to pursue someone for answers when they didn’t want to talk. And Iruka _ certainly _ didn’t want to talk to him. That much was abundantly clear. Iruka needed serious help but he didn’t want it, preferring to train himself to death in silence like a good soldier. Mizuki sneered. And what was up with him being Iruka’s emergency contact? He got that they were friends, and yeah they’d slept together a few times, but they were far from _ that _level of intimacy. At least, that had been his intention. 

“Yo, Iruka!” he called, figuring he should be the one to dispel any awkwardness if they were to share the same space for a little while, “Mind if I join you?”

Iruka turned, hands lowered, and smiled when he recognized him. “Hey!” he called back, waving a little as Mizuki approached. “No problem. You want to spar?”

Mizuki responded by dropping into a crouch and running for Iruka, who was so surprised at the sudden assault, he barely had time to block the blows that came for him: two to the chest, one to the head.

“Whoa!” Iruka shouted, backing away and restabilizing. 

Mizuki gave him a cocksure smirk. “Yeah, let’s spar.”

The surprise attack would be the only time Mizuki could touch Iruka. He moved like lightning through his stances and struck like thunder, dazing and stunning Mizuki at every turn. They sparred for the better part of an hour, and Mizuki was left sore and hurting by the end, while Iruka looked like he’d just been out for a light jog around the village. 

“Damn, Iruka, when did you get so good?” he asked jokingly, sitting down heavily after he’d conceded the fight. 

Iruka crouched, resting his arms on his knees. “I’ve always been this good,” he said, at least having the decency to sound out of breath. He was quiet for a moment, then asked, “Why have you been avoiding me?”

“Ah, Iruka,” Mizuki gasped, wiping sweat from his brow, “It’s really not like that. You just seem like you need space to work out your shit, don’t you?”

Iruka frowned at him. “No, I need a friend to be there for me. I was alone for a year, Mizuki. I had no one. Now is when I need someone.”

“Well, shit,” he tried for exasperation, “Sorry, but you really didn’t say that. You kept telling me you were fine and shutting me out when I asked you to open up. Unless that’s what you were trying to tell me when you almost gutting me with a kunai the last time I tried to touch you?”

He noticed Iruka blush, even though his face was already flushed from their battle. “I’m not going to pretend I made it obvious for you, but you kind of just abandoned me.”

“I’m sorry,” Mizuki said, as sincerely as he could manage. He was sorry, in a way. He really didn’t like to let a friend down, but well, why did Iruka have to make it so hard for him to care?

__

_ I’m sorry. I’m sorry. _

Iruka sighed, looking into the eyes of his closest friend as he said, “It’s alright.”

“So, are you ready to talk about it now?” Mizuki asked him. 

Iruka blanched. It seemed to be the only reply Mizuki needed.

“’Ru, you’re running yourself ragged, and whether you want to admit it or not, you’re pushing me away.”

Iruka stood. “You’re being unfair.”

Mizuki also stood, reminding Iruka that they had a significant height difference. Usually, it didn’t bother him. For a ninja, it was an asset to be small and lithe, but in an argument, it just made Iruka feel small. “_ You’re _ being unfair. How do you think it feels to see a friend in so much pain, but he won’t even tell you what’s wrong?” Mizuki raised his arms in exasperation, then dropped them to his sides. “How am I supposed to help you, ‘Ru?”

_ ‘Ru. ‘Ru. Maru. _

_ November 9 _ _ th _ _ . _

_ Maru was murdered. _

“Hey, are you listening to me?”

_ “Brother, teach me more words!” Maru squealed. _

_ Iruka looked up from his notebook, closing it quickly before she could catch a glimpse. _

_ “What are you writing, big brother?” she asked curiously, attempting to crawl into his lap. _

_ Iruka smiled indulgently and laid a hand on her head. Though she was probably too old to be sitting in an adult’s lap, she was still not so old that she couldn’t get away with it. Besides, Iruka would deny her nothing if he could help it. Her life was hard enough. _

_ “Nothing, little sister,” he replied warmly, setting the notebook aside and turning his attention towards the girl. “What word would you like to learn?” _

_ Maru was thoughtful for a moment, her little pink face scrunched up in concentration. Then, her eyes lit up, and she said, “Teach me how to say family.” _

“Iruka, what’s the matter with you?”

Maru was gone, and Mizuki was standing there, waving his hand in his face impatiently. “Where’d you go off to?”

Iruka shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve been remembering things, memories from my mission.”

“Why hasn’t Tsunade ordered you back to the hospital yet?”

Iruka flushed. “I’m fine, Mizuki.”

“You’re not fine, Iruka!” Mizuki sounded furious. “You’re clearly not fine at all! I’m getting really sick of you feeding me these denials as if it isn’t obvious that you’re fucked up!”

Another voice from directly behind him said, “Why don’t you back off?”

Iruka turned to see Kakashi a few paces away, staring past him at Mizuki. When had Kakashi gotten there? How had he snuck up so suddenly?

“Piss off, Hatake, this isn’t about you,” Mizuki snapped.

Kakashi’s eyebrow raised. “It’s not about you, either.”

“I never said it was.”

“Then stop acting like such a brat. You’re yelling, you know?” he asked, voice calm and emotionless, “Did you know that you were yelling?”

Mizuki’s face reddened with anger or possibly embarrassment. “You don’t tell me what to do. This isn’t your business.”

“This is my business,” Kakashi insisted, “Iruka is my friend, too. Right, Iruka?”

When had Kakashi decided he was Iruka’s friend? Iruka frowned but said nothing. He was angry enough at the both of them that he didn’t feel particularly inclined to help either of them win this fight. 

Mizuki pushed past Iruka, who stumbled only slightly, and squared off against Kakashi. “You think just because you’re Jonin, you can push us around and do whatever you want?”

“Gods, no,” Kakashi replied, affronted, “I’d never presume to push Iruka around. I watched him kick your ass, and I do not want a piece of that.”

In spite of everything, Iruka started to laugh. Then, because he couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed, he started crying, too. The situation struck him as so insane it was comical; Mizuki and Kakashi fighting over him. He doubled over, tears in his eyes, and when he finally got himself under control, both were giving him really strange looks. “I-I’m sorry,” he stammered, “I’m going to go.”

“Iruka, no, wait,” Kakashi said, reaching out.

Iruka flinched away. “Really, it’s okay. I’m done here, so I’m leaving.”

“Iruka!” Kakashi called, but Iruka was already gone.

__

“Nice going, asshole.”

Kakashi glared. “Who even _ are _you?”

He watched Mizuki bristle. “A damn lot more than you’ll ever be to him.”

Kakashi’s eyes widened. “Is that what this is about?”

“No, that’s not what this is about!”

Kakashi’s eye narrowed, his brow raised in suspicion. “I don’t know, it seems like that’s what this is about. You think I want to take Iruka away from you?”

Mizuki scoffed. “You can have him, if that’s really what you want. The last time I tried anything with him, he almost slit my throat.”

Now, this was interesting to Kakashi. His thoughts drifted to the Icha Icha novel in his pocket. 

Mizuki must have read the expression on Kakashi’s face because he was shaking his head. “No, no, not like that, you damned pervert. Iruka’s wound tighter than anything since he came back from that mission. He was in a nightmare, and he pulled a knife on me.”

Oh. Yeah, not in the good way, then. “Well, I’m not surprised. You don’t seem to care about him all that much.”

“What would _ you _know about our relationship, you bastard?” Mizuki pointed an accusing finger at Kakashi. “How are you even involved in this, anyway?”

“Like I said, Iruka’s my friend.”

“Iruka doesn’t _ have _any friends!”

Kakashi looked nonplussed. “His welcoming party might beg to differ.”

Mizuki shook his head. “Those people all like Iruka, but they aren’t his friends. He’s barely my friend, the guy is so closed-off. He isolates himself.”

“And you never figured out why?” Kakashi was dubious. “Sounds like you might not be his friend, either.”

“God, at this rate, huh?” Mizuki sighed. “Hatake, I don’t like you, but I’ll be honest: if he’ll talk to you, it wouldn’t be the worst thing.” 

Mizuki grabbed ahold of his own ankle and stretched his leg behind him, wincing as he had likely found a new bruise from his fight with Iruka. “He needs to talk to someone, and it pisses me off that he keeps dodging me like this. So, I was staying away from him for a bit. Can you blame me?”

Yes.

“If you want to try to crack him for a while, be my guest, but you’re going to get tired of it. Everyone gets tired of it.”

Kakashi was thankful for his mask, otherwise he would’ve sneered openly. “You’re really a brat, aren’t you?”

Mizuki’s fist came flying at his face.

Kakashi put him on the ground, unconscious, without a second thought. Then, he closed his eyes and tuned into Iruka’s chakra trail. It was a good enough way to end the conversation. He hadn’t particularly been enjoying himself. It took a few seconds to locate Iruka, but once he had the scent, he set off after him. 

He found Iruka sitting on top of the Hokage monument, hands in his lap, staring out at the village. Kakashi flared his chakra so as not to startle the other man, then approached him slowly. 

“You know,” Iruka said conversationally, “We do a whole hell of a lot for this place, don’t we?”

“It’s our home,” Kakashi replied, “Of course we do.”

“And we all understand our duty,” Iruka continued, “It isn’t like I’m second-guessing the Hokage’s wisdom, I just-,”

“You wonder why it has to be us that do it?”

Iruka shook his head. “I volunteered for that mission.”

Kakashi sat, his knee just barely brushing Iruka’s. “Why?”

Iruka was silent for a moment. Kakashi studied him in profile, the gentle slopes of his face, the scar cleaving it neatly in half. As the bright light of the mid-morning sun played on Iruka’s skin, he almost seemed to glow. He was beautiful, Kakashi thought, and he’d scarcely realized it until now.

“I guess I just thought that, if I didn’t, someone else would have to.” 

He was beautiful, and now Kakashi had fallen for him. 

“I understand.”

Iruka nodded. “I suspected you might. I know about your track record, Kakashi. How many missions have you been on?”

“One thousand, one hundred and ninety-five.”

Iruka nodded. “I’ve been on five hundred and twenty.”

Kakashi was surprised. “That’s a lot. How long have you been on active duty?”

“I made Chunin three years ago.”

Of those five hundred missions, not all of them were going to be Chunin level, but it was still a staggering number for such a short amount of time. “How old are you?”

Iruka tucked a few stray hairs behind his ear that had escaped his ponytail. “Twenty.”

The two sat in companionable silence for a long moment. Kakashi’s mind was turning with these new revelations. He was only five years older than Iruka and had been a Chunin a lot longer, but they were alike in many ways. Yet, Kakashi realized now they were also quite different. He regretted speaking to Iruka the way he had when they’d fought in his apartment. Not everyone appreciated blunt logic. Iruka seemed the type to appreciate a subtle approach. 

“I never got a chance to apologize for my rudeness,” he said, breaking the silence.

“You have it now.”

Kakashi bowed his head. “I’m sorry, Iruka. Please accept my apology.”

“Accepted,” Iruka said simply. 

Kakashi couldn’t help but smile. 

Iruka looked over at him suspiciously. “What are you plotting?”

“No plotting,” he promised, “It’s just nice, you know, to see you looking contented.”

“I wish I felt contented,” Iruka admitted.

Kakashi waited patiently for him to say more, and when he didn’t, he looked over at him. Tears were swimming in his eyes, and he was biting his lip again. “Hey, everything alright?”

Iruka shook his head. “No, not really.”

“I apologized for the rude way I asked my question but not the intent of my message,” Kakashi clarified softly, “You can talk to me, if you want to.”

Iruka lowered his gaze. 

Kakashi inhaled deeply, changing approach. “My first long-term mission had me living in a cave in the middle of the arctic for several months. I almost froze to death several times. To this day, I can’t step outside after a fresh snowfall without remembering the face of one of my men when we had to remove his frostbitten foot.” He paused. “I was eighteen.”

“When I was twenty,” Kakashi continued, “They sent me to the Land of Waves for seventeen months to break up a human trafficking ring operating there. The last time I went to Waves on a mission was a few weeks ago. It took a day longer than it should’ve. I spent the first twenty-four hours of the mission nearly catatonic, unable to cope with my own memories.”

Iruka was silent as he listened. 

“What I’m saying is, it’s normal to not be fine.”

_ I’m fine. _

Kakashi looked sidelong at him. “But if you don’t talk about it, you’ll never get better.”

_ I’m sorry. _

“You’re going to have to finish your report to Tsunade, and I think it’s the dual stress of the trauma combined with an official debrief that’s keeping your memories locked up. If you could work through talking to me about it, then that would be a start.”

Kakashi felt rather than saw Iruka. A violent tremor ran through his body like a snap of electricity. 

“What are you afraid of?” Kakashi asked, “You’re back now. What can hurt you?”

Iruka didn’t move a muscle as he said, “I’m afraid I’ve changed.” His eyes stared out at the horizon, open wide. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to go back to who I used to be.”

Kakashi nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Iruka sounded impatient. 

“Well,” Kakashi started, then sighed sympathetically, “The thing is, you can’t.” He shook his head, looking down at the stone of the monument. His eyes followed a crack, looking at the tiny hair fractures and loose gravel that had formed over the years of wear. “You can’t go back to who you were. You’re like the monument. Things will happen to you. A storm will chip off pieces of you. People will deface you for fun. And, sure, you may be worse off for it, but in the long run, you’re still this great, big, impressive thing, you know?”

Iruka smiled a little ruefully as he said, “The graffiti washes off pretty quickly.”

Kakashi shrugged. “And it’s okay if some damage takes longer to heal. It’s also okay if you can’t patch all of the cracks. Do you get what I’m trying to say?”

Iruka nodded. 

Kakashi held Mizuki’s face firmly in his mind and said, “And if there are people who turn away from you just because you’ve been damaged, who can’t see you’re still a work of art after what you’ve endured, that says a lot more about them than it does about you.”

“Kakashi,” Iruka said, and the quiet way he said it did nothing to diminish the raw emotion contained in that one, simple word. 

Kakashi turned to Iruka and raised a single hand to cradle the side of Iruka’s face. He moved with deliberate slowness, giving the other man every opportunity to move away but he didn’t. Iruka leaned into the touch, and his skin was achingly soft and warm. Kakashi’s heart broke, thinking about the things this gentle creature must have endured. But then, he was a shinobi, just as much as Kakashi was. It was just a tragedy to think, as illogical as it sounded, that something terrible had happened to Iruka and Kakashi wasn’t around to stop it. 

Kakashi wanted to be around, from now until the end of time, to prevent bad things from happening to Umino Iruka. He took his other hand and placed it on the other side of his face, and once again, Iruka let him with the gentle timidness of someone who was not used to being touched tenderly. 

When their lips met, Kakashi saw sparks behind his eyelids. Iruka’s lips were rough and hungry - he could tell, even through the thin fabric of his mask - but he held himself with the stillness of someone who knew he couldn’t actually have what he wanted so badly and was trying to save himself the disappointment. Kakashi wanted to kiss Iruka every day until the tight bundle he’d wrapped himself in so carefully unravelled, strand by strand. Kakashi kissed Iruka, and with that one, simple act, he saw with perfect clarity everything that had been missing from his life. 

It was a single kiss, a chaste press of lips that almost didn’t deserve the word, but it moved heaven and earth in Kakashi’s mind, reconfiguring everything in the universe until it all fell into orbit around this single person who deserved everything Kakashi had to give and infinitely more. 

Kakashi looked at Iruka, his face bare and open as if he’d never learned to mask his emotions. And Iruka was looking back at him, a cocktail of emotions swirling in his chocolate eyes. “Was that okay?” Kakashi asked, a bit breathless. 

Iruka held himself very still. Then, he pressed a kiss to the heel of Kakashi’s right palm. 

“Okay.” Kakashi removed his hands and turned away, back towards the horizon. 

“What was it?” Iruka asked, sounding a little out of breath himself. 

“A promise.”


	4. Iruka Completes His Mission

Iruka delivered his mission report five weeks late, and he’d never make fun of Kakashi in the mission room for tardy reports again. 

He stood for the entire debriefing, pacing around the room as he answered the Hokage’s questions. Somewhere, lurking in the corners of the room, was Kakashi, his chakra signature equal parts comforting and nerve-wracking. This report was key for the next step of the operation. Iruka’s intel would inform a strike team, sent out to assassinate not only the lord who’d held Iruka for fourteen months, but everyone on his chain of command. They were dismantling an entire trafficking ring, one that had plagued the continent for decades. 

Iruka gave them the names of every minor officer who smuggled drugs past country borders, all the way up to the man at the top, the shadowy overlord of the entire ring who sat in his headquarters, high in the mountains to the north. Iruka had learned everything, and what wasn’t written in the reports, what was too sensitive to put on paper was all stored in his memory. 

Kakashi had heard his report two or three times. They’d spent long, tearful, agonizing nights unlocking his memories bit by painful bit. Iruka knew that the copy nin could probably have produced his entire verbal report from memory, but he hadn’t wanted him to. This was his mission. His name was on the papers. He would deliver the report. 

Tsunade received the names gravely, marking down locations, profiles, and other defining information into the official report. She was trying not to ask for too many details regarding the tortures Iruka had endured, but there were necessary questions that could not go unanswered. To his credit, Iruka barely stumbled over his answers now. His face was ghostly pale as he described, in as clinical terms as he could manage, everything he saw in his nightmares.

__

Kakashi ground his teeth together. Hearing the details of Iruka’s mission never got easier. This would be the last time he would have to recite them, but the knowledge was cold comfort. Iruka had endured more trauma in a year than most shinobi would see in their lives, let alone a single mission. It was the personal nature of the crimes that were so damaging. A kunai in your arm or chest was one thing. You could heal a cut with medicine. Tsunade could fix damn near any physical injury - Kakashi knew this from experience. Mental injuries were another matter. You couldn’t put your PTSD on ice and stay in bed for a few days. 

He stood in the corner, focused intently on Iruka as he answered the Hokage’s questions. Iruka, who in the last two weeks had done more emotional heavy-lifting than Kakashi had done all his life. Iruka, who had developed a tic in his jaw from clenching it against tears he’d grown tired of shedding. Kakashi focused on Iruka, remembering those first few nights he’d spent on Iruka’s couch, listening to his labored breathing, his choked screams, the sobs of utter exhaustion. He remembered how Iruka would stumble out of his bedroom, looking like he was escaping the compound all over again, and how he would shuffle over and lay his head on Kakashi’s knees, arms wrapped around his calves as he shook. 

Kakashi remembered those nights, and he wondered how differently things might’ve turned out if Gai hadn’t done the same thing for him when he’d come home, covered in both enemy and ally blood, needing human contact but not knowing how to say so. Kakashi wondered about that and also about the other shinobi in the village who thought they didn’t have anyone to turn to.

__

When he’d answered Tsunade’s final questions, Iruka sat down in the chair they’d provided him and put his head in his hands. There was a quiet stirring in the room as the people present took their leave: chairs scraping, papers rustling, the clicking of pencils being put away. No one said a word. 

Iruka had told Kakashi he was afraid he’d changed, but that wasn’t the only thing he was afraid of. He was also afraid that he would be treated differently now, that people’s attitudes towards him would change after they found out what had happened to him. The silence in the room fell heavily on his ears, the absence all the louder than any idle conversation would be. 

He rose to his feet and crossed his arms, gripping his own biceps in an attempt to comfort himself. He could still sense Kakashi’s chakra, unmoving in the back corner. As soon as the room was empty and they were the only two people left, Kakashi moved, stepping out of the shadows and into the light. His face was as unreadable as ever, and Iruka wondered if he’d ever get used to feeling so watched. 

“You want to get out of here?” he asked, trying for nonchalance.

“I have to meet Tsunade,” Kakashi said, “Would you mind going on without me?”

Iruka did mind. He felt as if his entire body had been scrubbed out from the inside, all of his secrets and his shame laid bare for everyone to see. By the end of the day, the rumor mill will have gotten ahold of partial details of his brief, even though the mission was wrapped up in red tape a mile long. Iruka was already fighting down the beginnings of a low-grade panic just thinking about all of the looks and stares as he walked home. 

“No trouble. Should we get Ichiraku?”

“You never did meet me for it the last time I invited you,” Kakashi replied. 

Iruka felt disappointment grip his heart. “Yes, well, you were being an ass.”

“Yes, I was,” Kakashi agreed easily. 

A beat of silence fell between them. Iruka wanted to leap out of his skin, which Kakashi must have somehow sensed because he reached out with one arm and brought Iruka against his chest in a half-hug. “Sorry, I wish I didn’t have to make you wait,” he apologized softly, words murmured against the top of Iruka’s head. Kakashi had a habit of doing that, of pressing his lips to Iruka’s hair and speaking into it, as if that would somehow muffle his words, disguise his feelings. 

Iruka leaned into the touch, comforted. Kakashi was terribly sentimental but lacked the tools to express it. It was endearing and a little maddening. “It’s alright. Please don’t be long with Tsunade.”

“I won’t,” he promised, then let go. 

Iruka felt cold when Kakashi released him. “See you tonight, then.”

Kakashi turned. “I’ll be there in a few hours, tops.” And then he left. 

Iruka stood and surveyed the room one final time. It didn’t feel real, strangely enough. Ever since he’d been back, everything he’d done had been leading up to the moment when he’d complete his report. Now, his mission was officially finished. He would be paid, too, of course. It was a ridiculous amount of money, and that’s not why Iruka had done it, but combined with the pay from his medical leave, he wouldn’t have to take another mission for several months if he didn’t want to. 

Iruka decided to head to the training grounds. He was exhausted mentally, but his body still felt fine, so he figured he should try and bring things into equilibrium. The future was not something he was comfortable thinking about, and the idea of “another mission” was so alien to him. Of course, he was an active-duty shinobi, so he would continue to take missions. That was his job, his duty to Konoha. It just seemed so impossible. How could he go on another escort mission or deliver a scroll to the Land of Wind after everything? After Maru?

_Maru. She was just a little kid._

He stopped by his apartment on the way to the fields to change his clothing, opting for a lighter vest and different sandals. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to work on, but he brought his wrapping tape, just in case he managed to find a sparring partner. 

The apartment smelled like Kakashi, which was a new revelation. Iruka stopped on his way back out the door to take notice of all of the little, almost imperceptible changes the other man had brought to his small space. He’d been sleeping on the couch, and though he always rolled up his blankets and tucked them underneath a pillow, a half-read Icha Icha novel was lying, open and face down on the coffee table. Next to it, a few throwing stars that were clearly Kakashi’s sat, freshly cleaned and smelling like oil. 

In the kitchen, two mugs sat by the little coffee pot on the stove instead of one. They were both Iruka’s, but he never used the red one anymore. That was Kakashi’s mug now. He was always drinking something out of it, and usually that something had a little sake mixed in, as well. As a result, the clay cup always smelled faintly of spirits, of earthy coffee grounds, and just a little bit like cinnamon, as well. 

A small duffel bag, tucked securely underneath the coffee table, was overflowing with navy blue underclothes, thermal gear, and the signature stretchy cloth scarves that Kakashi stretched over his face to hide himself from the nose down. Iruka had always assumed the mask was attached to his shirts, but the revelation that it was a separate accessory, while impacting no part of his life whatsoever, was an intimate detail he hadn’t been emotionally prepared to learn. He wondered who else knew Kakashi in these small, insignificant ways. The thought made him nervously hopeful.

What was he to Kakashi? Ever since that night on the monument, they'd been spending all of their free time together. Kakashi rarely went back to his own apartments at night, and some of that was in the name of helping Iruka overcome his trauma, but Kakashi had also made it very clear that this was more than a practical arrangement for him. Iruka felt like there was a butterfly trapped in his chest, wings beating against his ribcage, tickling him with giddy nerves. He had feelings for the other ninja, and he was almost certain they were reciprocated, but there was still a lingering feeling of doubt, of dread that dogged his heels. One friend had already left him. How long would it take for Kakashi to reach his limit? 

Before he allowed himself to totally succumb to the emotions swirling inside of him, Iruka scurried out his front door, determined not to obsess over what Kakashi thought he was getting out of all of this.

The grounds weren’t empty when he got there. Iruka recognized a number of shinobi. Maito Gai was working on kicks towards the end of the field with a woman Iruka couldn't see clearly from the distance, and Mizuki was setting up a throwing target along with Hayate. 

Iruka didn’t know what to do about Mizuki just yet. He hadn’t seen him since the last time they’d been together on the training grounds, when he and Kakashi had gotten into a fight. Mizuki hadn’t attempted to stop by his apartment, but then, Iruka hadn’t made many attempts to re-establish connection, either. It was difficult for him to say how he felt about Mizuki. For the longest time, they’d been very close. They frequently ate meals together, trained together, and other, more intimate things. Iruka had even begun to let himself become hopeful a relationship would be on the horizon. But then, he took the mission. Mizuki had made it pretty clear he wasn't happy with Iruka for that, but they were shinobi. Mizuki should have understood, and besides, they hadn't been in a relationship. Iruka was worried he’d lost his friend, but he didn’t quite know how or why it had happened. 

Mind settled, Iruka strode up to Mizuki and Hayate, calling out to them. Hayate, impassive as ever, gave him a lazy wave in return, but Mizuki only glared. Iruka hesitated for a fraction of a second, then jogged the rest of the distance. “Mind if I join you?”

Mizuki didn’t move. Hayate looked uncomfortable. 

“Um, hey?” Iruka tried, scratching the back of his neck, “What’s up?”

“Iruka.” Mizuki’s voice was ice. “All finished with your brief, are you?”

Iruka was stunned. “Word traveled that fast?”

“I was there,” Hayate mumbled, “Sorry, Iruka.”

“That was a classified mission, Hayate!” 

“Don’t be mad at him,” Mizuki interjected, “You’re the one who owes an apology around here.”

Iruka’s jaw dropped. “What do you mean?”

Mizuki pressed his lips together and looked around, somewhat wildly. “You know what I mean, you bastard! How could you take a mission like that?! You selfish idiot. You go away for a year, not telling any of us _why, _and now I hear you were letting yourself get _fucked _by some criminal!?”

Iruka bypassed uncomfortable and moved straight into panicking. He he couldn’t speak. He opened his mouth, and all that came out was a little croaking noise. 

“Nothing to say for yourself?” Mizuki spat. “Pathetic. Come on, Hayate.”

Mizuki turned away and started walking. Hayate didn’t follow. “Come on, man, I wouldn’t have told you if I’d known you’d be like this about it.” He turned to Iruka. “I’m really sorry. I just figured, well, you guys were always close, and he was part of the rescue team.” He shrugged. “I thought he’d want to know.”

“I don’t blame you,” Iruka said faintly. 

“You okay?”

Iruka shook his head to try to clear away some of the fog that had drifted in. “No, I mean, yeah, I’m fine.” He took a few deep breaths. “I have to talk to him.”

“Hey, Mizuki, come back!” Hayate hollered after their retreating friend, “You bastard!”

Iruka wanted to laughing. He knew Hayate was trying to break some of the tension he’d inadvertently created. He couldn’t laugh, however. Was this why Mizuki had been so frosty to him, ever since he’d come home? Did he resent Iruka for leaving in the first place?

Iruka patted Hayate’s shoulder. “I’ll go after him.” 

He took off in a run and quickly caught up to Mizuki. They were near the woods at the back of the training ground, and now Iruka could see clearly that the woman training with Gai was Anko, a terrifying jonin who’d been his classmate at the Academy. She taught there now, he was fairly certain. She was as good a match as any to be sparring with Gai, who usually was only able to train with Kakashi, Iruka knew, for fear of someone sustaining permanent harm. Gai was a good person, but he often overestimated his opponent’s capabilities. 

“Mizuki,” Iruka called once he was close enough, walking just a few paces behind the still-retreating man, “Please, let’s just talk about this.”

“Now you want to talk?” Mizuki asked, incredulous, and spun on his heel, “Which part do you want to talk about? How you left me for a year to become some other man’s plaything?! Or how about how you’re sleeping with Hatake Kakashi now, you little freak?” He was so angry, he was spitting, his words like venom as they cut into Iruka. “You’re such a slut, Umino. I can’t believe you. Did I mean anything to you?”

“How could you say that?” Iruka asked, feeling faint. The world had narrowed at the edges, and he focused intently on Mizuki’s painfully enraged face to keep his grip. “How could you think that?”

“How could you _ do _ that?!” 

“It was a mission,” Iruka explained desperately, “You think I wanted to… to be-,” he cut himself off, unwilling to say the word. 

“You signed up for it,” Mizuki countered, “You knew what would happen to you, and you signed up for it. Why, Iruka?”

“Someone had to.”

“That someone didn’t have to be you!” Mizuki’s anger was turning to pain, Iruka could see. His voice cracked with desperation, and his eyes were becoming watery. “I don’t get it. I just don’t get it! How could you leave me?!”

"We weren't together, though!" Iruka pleaded. "I thought you and I were just friends."

"I was never anything special to you, was I?" Mizuki demanded, his hands balled into fists at his sides, "I expect this kind of treatment from everyone else, but you?!"

Iruka couldn’t think fast enough to dodge the kick Mizuki aimed for him. He took the full force of it in his side and went sprawling to the ground. Then, Mizuki was on him, pummeling him with unwrapped fists that bled as soon as skin met skin. Iruka pulled his arms up over his face, but he felt a punch connect with his left eye anyway, and he cried out in pain, vision blurring and burning. He made a grab for Mizuki’s arms and tried to gain the upper hand, but Mizuki was ready for him, and they struggled in the dirt until suddenly Mizuki’s weight left Iruka in a sudden rush as someone pulled him away. 

Iruka’s breath had gone out, and he gasped for air, holding his stomach and choking on nothing for a good, long minute. He wasn’t aware of what was happening around him, but someone’s arm was around his shoulders, helping him sit up. He couldn’t see; blood was in his eyes, but after the rush in his ears died down, he heard Anko’s voice, uncharacteristically soft, murmuring to him that he was okay. 

He looked up and saw that Gai had restrained Mizuki, who had gone silent and was staring sullenly at the ground. Hayate was hovering nearby, muttering to himself.

“What should we do?” Iruka heard Anko ask. 

“I know not,” Gai replied, for once lacking his usual boisterous tone, “But we must do something. I cannot think of a worse offense than a Konoha shinobi attacking a fellow.”

“It’s okay,” Iruka muttered through a mouthful of blood. He put a hand on Anko’s arm and turned, spitting into the dirt. Through his good eye, he saw something sharply white, standing out amidst the red. One of his teeth. “Okay, um.”

“Mizuki, you fuck,” Anko swore, forgetting herself, “I’ll kill you myself!”

“No, no, Anko!” Gai chided, “Restrain yourself. We will take them to Tsunade.”

“We don’t have to concern her with this.” Anko sounded malicious as she said, “I’ll teach him right here, right now what happens to people who attack teammates.”

“I’m sorry, alright,” Mizuki muttered.

Gai brought the giant flat of his palm down on Mizuki’s head, grinding his mouth into the dirt. “Quiet, you!” he declared.

“Iruka,” Anko tried, redirecting her attention back to him with a soft look in her eyes, “Should we get you out of here? Tell us what to do.”

“Yeah, let’s just go,” Iruka said quietly, still looking at Mizuki. “I’ll tell Tsunade later, I guess. I don’t know. It doesn’t have to be a thing.”

“Iruka,” Gai said with measure, “It very much is, as you say, a thing.”

Iruka shrugged. “My face hurts. I just want to go home. You guys can do whatever you want.”

“I’ll take you,” Anko said, “Can you stand?”

“Of course I can stand.” Iruka lifted himself up gracefully. Nothing was broken, thankfully. He’d lost a tooth, seemingly, and his eye was going to be black if the throbbing was anything to go by, but he’d heal. The rejection from Mizuki hurt more than anything, and Iruka was more angry than sad about that. Mizuki thought he didn't care about him? Mizuki thought he _wanted _to be abused by his captors? “What kind of person would blame me for what happened?” he asked, more to himself than to Mizuki, who couldn’t answer because Gai was still holding his face to the ground. 

Anko laid a hand on his shoulder. “Someone who isn’t worthy of being called a shinobi.”

“Indeed!” Gai said, forgetting himself and smacking his fist against Mizuki, who groaned. “You did a brave and noble thing, Iruka! All of Konoha - no, the entire country - will thank you for your part in dismantling that terrible organization!”

Iruka let out a hiss of breath and was dismayed to hear a faint whistling through the new gap between his left canine and molars. “I don’t want anyone to thank me. I want the operation to be a success, and I want those bastards to die, but I don’t want any recognition for anything. I mean it.” He looked between Anko and Gai. “I don’t know if you two can do anything, but I’d like if the details of my highly-classified mission, you know, _ stayed _classified?”

Gai thumped his fist against his chest, then hit Mizuki again. “You can count on Maito Gai! I will ensure everyone in the village is none the wiser of your incredible sacrifice!”

“Er, thanks.” Iruka was starting to feel a bit dizzy, so he looked to Anko. “Thanks for walking me. I’m not too far from here.” 

Iruka and Anko set off for his apartment at a lazy pace. Mizuki hadn’t done too much damage, but Iruka was reeling. How could Mizuki have said those things about him? Did he actually believe Iruka had wanted to be…? It was completely insane, but then, Mizuki would have had to be completely insane to attack him in the middle of a group of shinobi. 

“Sorry we weren’t there in time,” Anko apologized, “He got the drop on you pretty quick, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m usually faster than he is,” Iruka replied, feeling sort of foolish, “Some shinobi I am.”

“Hey, he’s your friend. Or, well, he was.” Anko shrugged. “It’s really hard to know what to do in a situation like that. It’s not like sparring. It seemed like, well, seemed like he really wanted to hurt you, you know?” She cleared her throat. “That’s why you need to go to Tsunade. He could be a danger to you.”

Iruka shook his head. “Mizuki wouldn’t hurt me for real.”

“He knocked your tooth out,” she pointed out, “And you’re going to have one hell of a shiner.”

“You don’t have to tell me.” He touched the bruised skin with two fingers experimentally. “Ow.”

“You’ll have to let me look at that once we get inside,” she said next, “Make sure there’s no vision damage.”

Iruka was quiet for a second as he processed everything that had just happened. Then, he asked, “Anko, do you remember me from the Academy?”

“Of course I do,” she said, “Even though I left pretty early to start training with Orochimaru.” A shadow passed over her face, like she was remembering something she’d rather forget. “I remember everyone from our class. You were always pulling pranks on our teachers.”

Iruka chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah, okay. I just ask because, well, don’t you teach there now? What’s it like?”

Anko hummed thoughtfully. “You know, I really like it, but in a lot of ways, it’s a lot harder than going on missions. You have to get up every day and try to impart knowledge into the minds of these tiny people, knowing someday the things you tell them might be the reason they live or die.” She said this matter-of-factly. “That’s certainly tough, but it’s also really rewarding because you get to be the first contact a lot of these kids have with the shinobi world, and it’s nice to be able to give them the kind of foundation they need to be responsible about it.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“Well, like, imagine how much better Kakashi’s life would be if his family hadn’t turned him into a little killing machine,” she said, so frankly it was startling, “If only he’d had a human being as a teacher when he was a genin, things might not be so bad for him.”

They reached Iruka’s apartment, and he unlocked it for them. They stepped inside, and Iruka was once again wrapped in the combined scents of his home and Kakashi, the two concepts mingling together in a way that filled Iruka with an odd sense of sentiment and comfort.

“The shinobi philosophy isn’t kind on kids,” Anko continued, “I have a reputation as being kind of a hard-ass, but that’s only on the ones old enough to know why. Genin deserve better.” 

Iruka went to the kitchen and bundled together some ice cubes in a cloth, then pressed it to his swollen eye. Anko followed him in. “You want me to make you some tea?”

Iruka sunk into a chair and shook his head. “I won’t take up anymore of your time.”

“Why’d you ask about the Academy?”

It was a difficult question only because Iruka hadn’t completely decided on the answer for himself yet. He shrugged in response. “Just curious.”

“Well, you know how to get me if you need me. Gai, too.” She rapped her knuckles against the kitchen counter. “We care about you, Umino. You’re a good guy.”

Iruka listened to her leave, then picked himself up and carried himself into the bathroom to clean up. He had to meet Kakashi in a little while, and he didn’t want to look as bad as he felt. Not that it would matter, in the end. Kakashi always saw right through him, like he needed him to. 

__

Kakashi strolled down the lane, on his way to meet Iruka at Ichiraku. His brief with Tsunade had been very productive. He was officially in charge of selecting his strike team for the operation against the cartel. Gai was a definite yes, as were Asuma and Ibiki. Anko probably wouldn’t want to take the leave from the Academy, but she would, though, if he asked, and he would. There was no questioning her skill. She’d studied under Orochimaru as his star pupil for years. And they would need all the firepower at their disposal to take down the cartel. The operation was larger than they’d initially speculated. There was a tendril reaching into every single government on the continent and a few on the Wave islands, as well. Kakashi’s was only one of many strike teams they would need, but his would be going right for the serpent’s head. 

Kakashi was more than eager for the opportunity to seek vengeance for what had happened to Iruka, but he knew he shouldn’t be framing it like that. He needed to keep a level-head, but every time he thought about the men who’d used and debased Iruka without a second thought, his vision went red with fury. They would be brought to justice, alright, but it was Kakashi’s justice, which may or may not involve disembowelment.

Ichiraku came into view, and Kakashi stifled his emotions with the efficiency of years of practice. He saw the younger man already seated at a bar stool, his head bent low over a huge bowl of what smelled like the signature ramen. Next to him was an identical, steaming bowl. Kakashi’s heart swelled with affection. As he cleared his throat to announce his presence, however, he was dismayed to see Iruka jump and flinch. Then, fury flashed like lightning throughout his entire body as he caught sight of Iruka’s black eye. 

Kakashi slid onto the stool next to him, intently focused. “Who?”

Iruka didn’t look at him, just kept looking down into the bowl. The steam must have been giving him some relief from the swelling. Gods, it looked awful. It must have just happened because the skin was still tender and pink. Tomorrow, it would definitely be purple. 

“Who?” Kakashi asked again. 

“Leave it alone,” Iruka replied, voice pinched. 

Kakashi turned to the bowl Iruka had ordered for him. His favorite chashu pork was floating merrily on top of a bed of broad, flat noodles. “Sorry,” he said, meaning it, “I just-,”

“I know, Kakashi.” Iruka sounded sad. “How did your meeting with Tsunade go?”

“Fine.” 

There was a beat of silence. Kakashi couldn’t leave it alone, he just _ couldn’t. _“Iruka, please, who did that to you?”

Iruka inhaled deeply, then turned to look at Kakashi. “Mizuki.”

Kakashi’s hands balled into tight fists. “That fucking snake.”

“Language,” Iruka chided, glancing over at the shop owner, who didn’t look pleased. 

“When? Where?” 

Iruka sighed. He reached out, covering Kakashi’s hand with his own on the table. He hadn’t realized he’d been shaking. “On the training fields. Gai and Anko were there. They helped me, but he caught me by surprise.” 

“Why?” 

Iruka looked away. “He blames me. For, you know, it. Everything.”

“Impossible.” Kakashi shook his head. “You know that’s wrong, right?”

Iruka smiled humorlessly. “You know I do.” 

Kakashi sighed, letting some of the tension slip from his shoulders. “Sorry. Just checking.”

“I know.” Iruka’s hand over Kakashi’s tightened. “Gai and Anko weren’t happy, either.”

“Good.” Kakashi was more set now than ever on recruiting Anko for the strike team. He wondered if it would be possible to kill Mizuki and make it look like some kind of accident, but the things he was envisioning on doing would be impossible to pass off as a fall down the stairs. No one tripped and stabbed themselves thirty times on a kunai. 

“Kakashi, seriously, stop thinking bad thoughts,” Iruka said, then turned his attention back to his ramen with a small smile, “You look like a lunatic.”

“How can you tell?” Kakashi challenged. 

Iruka raised some noodles to his lips, and Kakashi watched, hypnotized, as he gracefully ate, not so much as spilling a drop of broth. “You think your mask hides everything, but I can tell even from your one eye that you’re fantasizing about killing him, and you shouldn’t be. He’s a fellow shinobi.”

“No fellow shinobi would deliberately hurt you like that.”

“Oh, you might think this is kind of funny,” Iruka said musingly. He put his chopsticks down and stretched his top lip, showing the gap where his tooth had been knocked out.

Kakashi looked dismayed. “How would I find that funny? He knocked your _ tooth _out? How hard was he hitting you?”

Iruka shrugged. “I don’t know. Pretty hard. Nothing’s broken, though.”

“He’ll die a thousand fucking deaths.”

“_Language! _”

It was the shop owner this time, and Iruka laughed as Kakashi ducked his head in apology. 

“It’s not a big deal,” Iruka told him, picking his chopsticks back up, “The loss of his friendship hurts a lot worse, and I expect that probably happened before today.” He was quiet for a second, and then he said, “Yeah, that hurts the most.”

“I never knew why you would hang out with someone like him anyway.”

“Someone like him?” Iruka repeated, eyes curious. 

Kakashi chose his words carefully, tapping his chopsticks on the table a few times before snapping them neatly in half. He poked the runny yolk of the egg, spilling it over the chashu. “He’s insincere,” he finally decided, “He takes missions because he has to, and he only does the bare minimum. He doesn't want to do a good job, he wants the recognition. Someone like Mizuki would never sign on for a mission like yours.”

“That would explain a lot of what he said to me,” Iruka commented, “He kept repeating that he just didn’t understand what would motivate me to take it on. He said,-” Iruka cut himself off, his posture tightening up. “He implied, I mean, that I wanted it to happen. What happened.” He touched two fingers lightly to the raw flesh around his eye and winced. “I don’t know. It was a really messed up interaction.”

“I’d imagine,” Kakashi said lightly. He looked around himself, confirming that no one other than Iruka and the shop owner could see him, before pulling his mask down. “I wouldn’t trust someone like him to have my back on a mission. He’s too motivated by his own self-preservation.”

Iruka didn’t respond. He was staring, like he’d been frozen, at Kakashi’s face. 

Kakashi nudged him with an elbow. “Something interesting?”

“No, I just, um, no,” Iruka stammered, blushing. He hid his embarrassment in his bowl, funneling noodles into his mouth. 

Kakashi felt like laughing, but he decided not to. He didn’t want Iruka to think he was making fun of him. He ate a few mouthfuls of noodles before changing the subject, saying, “Gai and Anko will probably be on my strike team."

Iruka raised his eyebrows. “_ Your _strike team?”

Kakashi shrugged. “There’s actually quite a few teams forming.” 

Iruka had a strange look in his eye. “When are you going to be leaving?”

“In a few weeks, I’d expect. There’s a lot to prepare yet.” 

Iruka seemed to deflate a little bit. “Okay.”

Kakashi gave Iruka a little space to think, turning his attention to his own bowl of ramen. Iruka had known his exact Ichiraku order, and he slurped it down happily. Either that, or he’d told the shop owner to just make Kakashi’s usual, but he liked to think it was Iruka’s doing. They were really getting along quite well, which made Kakashi very happy, but they hadn’t kissed again. There was no real reason why. It just hadn’t happened. Besides, everything with Iruka’s mission was too raw, too emotional. There was never really a good moment for Kakashi to slip in and say, “by the way, you mean absolutely everything to me.”

“When you complete your mission,” Iruka said, so quietly that Kakashi had to stop eating to listen properly, “Will this all be over?”

Kakashi nodded. “We’re going to pluck the cartel out by the roots. It’ll be as over as it can be.”

“No,” Iruka said, shaking his head, “I mean, well, this?”

Kakashi looked sidelong at him, not understanding. “What?”

Iruka looked frustrated, and his tawny skin had a pinkish tinge to it. “You and me, is what I mean. You said before that all of this was for the mission. When the mission is complete, will we just go back to not being friends?”

Oh. 

“If that’s what you want,” Kakashi said slowly, searchingly. 

Iruka’s face fell. “Oh.”

“It’s not what I want,” Kakashi added, a little too quickly, “But this was always about you, so whatever you want to do is fine by me.”

Iruka remained frustrated. “Of course it’s what I want. Why would I want you to leave?”

Kakashi’s eye went wide. He felt, for the first time in a very long time, truly nervous. “I don’t know,” he said, aiming for casual and missing by a mile, “I guess I don’t really have friends.” He frowned and watched Iruka track the movement. His eyes seemed caught on Kakashi’s lips, which only made him more nervous. “Mizuki said the same thing about you to me, actually, a while back.”

“He was talking to you about me?” Iruka looked mortified. 

Kakashi felt that he really shouldn’t have said that, should have kept the focus on himself and not Mizuki - the man who had literally just assaulted Iruka - but there was no going back now. “Yeah, he made some comment about how you tend to keep people at arm’s length.”

Iruka shrugged. “I guess he wasn’t wrong. I just hate the idea that he knew enough about me to know that.”

“What’s stopping you from letting people in?”

Iruka gave him a dubious look. “The same thing that’s stopping you, I’d expect.”

Kakashi had nothing to say to that, other than, “True.”

They ate in a companionable, if tense, silence until their bowls were empty, and then they ordered more and added a bottle of sake to split. It had been an arduous day, after all. Kakashi drank his share a little too quickly and tried not to stare at Iruka. He was so far gone for him. Even with the shiner, he was lovely as a sunrise. He was wearing his hair down tonight, something he’d gotten in the habit of doing after he changed into civilian clothes. Iruka had long hair that had a subtle wave to it. He kept it out of his face with two long pins at the top of his head that guided the hair straight back. Kakashi longed to reach out and tangle his fingers in those long, silky strands, but he held himself in check with force of will. He'd fallen so hard for Iruka and so fast. All it had taken was one conversation, up on the monument, to open Kakashi up to the idea, and ever since, every single word that came out of Umino Iruka's mouth, every little tilt of his head and flutter of his hands only served to deepen his emotions. 

Iruka was looking at him, had asked him a question. Kakashi shook himself out of his thoughts. “Sorry?”

“Just wondering what’s on your mind,” Iruka asked, a little amused. He palmed the empty bottle of sake and twirled his chopsticks. 

Kakashi stared at those fingers, nimbly manipulating the utensils, and realized just how quickly he’d drank his half. “You,” he answered without thinking. 

“Me?” Iruka’s eyebrows shot up. 

Kakashi toyed with the loose material at his neck but ultimately decided not to put his mask back up. Fuck it, he was already making mistakes tonight. “I’m always thinking about you.”

Iruka blushed, frowning. “Be serious.”

Kakashi stared at him. “Iruka, I am being completely serious.”

“Oh.” He blushed harder, “In like a good way, or-?”

Kakashi leaned over and kissed him soundly, resting one hand on his jaw gently, careful not to put too much pressure on him. He needn’t have worried, however, as Iruka’s lips parted immediately to admit him. Kakashi stifled a groan, knowing they’d be thrown out of Ichiraku for sure if he did, but Iruka’s mouth was too damn hot, igniting him from the inside out. He caught Iruka’s bottom lip and sucked it between his teeth, then let him go. 

“Oh,” Iruka repeated, sounding very far away, “In a very good way.”

“You think so?” Kakashi asked, no longer feeling nervous but still indulging in a rare moment of uncertainty. 

Iruka smiled shyly up at him. Then, his face fell slightly. “I just need to know how serious you are about this. Um, Mizuki and I sort of had, well, I guess you could call it a relationship, but he never really wanted anything more than, you know, than just a friend.” He was staring right at Kakashi, right into his very heart and soul, when he said, “I want more than that.”

Kakashi was at a loss for words. 

Iruka waited patiently for a few seconds for him to reply. Then, when it became clear he wouldn’t, he began to gnaw at his bottom lip with his teeth. Kakashi found the gesture incredibly distracting. His eyes were magnetized to the way Iruka’s canine tooth dimpled the dusky flesh, pressing hard but not quite hard enough to puncture the thin skin. 

“I, uh,” Kakashi stammered, trying desperately to pull his mind back into reality, “I’ve never thought about what I want.”

Iruka looked crestfallen. He turned to the shop owner and held the sake bottle aloft, and it was quickly replaced with a full one. 

Kakashi nudged his cup as Iruka poured. “What I mean is, I haven’t found anyone I’ve liked enough to consider the option,” he paused, swallowing a lungful of air, “Until now.”

Iruka looked hopeful as he did his sake like a shot. “Really? So you would want to be serious with me?”

Kakashi felt like he couldn’t fill his lungs, like he was always breathing in half as much as he needed. The world had shrunk to just the two of them, and he was finding it incredibly claustrophobic. “I do.” 

It was true, after all. The concept of a relationship, a real one, was terrifying. Kakashi was about to go on an incredibly dangerous mission where death was a real possibility. Iruka had just returned from a similarly perilous mission of his own, where he certainly had many opportunities to die. Entering into a relationship was opening yourself up to unspeakable heartbreak, to crippling loss should the worst happen, but then again, Kakashi would probably jump from the Hokage monument if anything happened to Iruka, and they were barely friends. He was long past the point where he could turn back, and he knew that. 

“I don’t know how to,” he continued, “But I’d do anything for you. I’d kill for you.”

Iruka smiled indulgently. “Yes, you made that clear.”

“I haven’t decided not to,” Kakashi warned, “Just to get that out in the open.”

“They’d execute you for murdering a fellow shinobi.”

“Would they?” Kakashi raised his eyebrow, playfully irreverent, “I’m a very important person. Mizuki is not. Besides, they’d have to catch me to kill me, and I’ll bet I would make a formidable rogue nin.”

“Don’t talk like that!” Iruka hissed, but Kakashi could tell he was stifling laughter. His shoulders shaking, he tried to steady himself long enough to pour two more cups of the sake. 

Kakashi accepted more gratefully, feeling warm and happy. “Does this mean we can kiss all the time?”

Iruka blushed prettily, reaching up to smooth his hair behind his ear. “We can kiss sometimes, if that’s what you want.”

“I want what you want.” He said it almost like it was a vow. 

“Well, I want to do a little more than kiss you,” Iruka admitted, “If that’s okay.”

Desire shot through him like a bolt of lightning at Iruka’s words, a scorching hunger that he needed to quench. “Iruka, you will be the death of me.” 

Iruka looked alarmed. “What?”

Kakashi pulled up his mask. “If that’s really what you want, it’s more than okay with me.”

Iruka set his chopsticks down on the table but continued to fidget with them, rolling them up and down with his fingers. “It is what I want. I’m just worried that I won’t be able to, you know? And I don't want that to be a problem for us, for you.”

At once, Kakashi felt like he’d been doused with a bucket full of cold reality. He needed to be careful with Iruka. It was easy to forget considering the capability and strength of the man, but he was still very much an open wound. “If you want to try, I’m right here. If it doesn’t work, nothing will change between us.”

“You sure?” Iruka’s expression was hesitant, searching as his eyes met Kakashi’s. “I don’t want to waste your time.”

Kakashi rose and held out his hand, inviting Iruka to take it. “What’s important to me is that I’m with you. Everything else is just extra.” 

Iruka took Kakashi’s hand, and together they headed out into the night.


	5. Iruka Moves On

Mizuki sat bolt upright in bed, soaked from head to toe in a cold sweat. His heart was racing, and he gasped for air that was finally, finally coming. 

He’d had the nightmare. Again. Every night for the past four days, he’d woken up the exact same way after seeing the exact same visions. In his dream, he was captured far away from Konoha, held as the prisoner of a sadistic lord. He was starved, tortured, used, and he screamed and screamed, but no one heard him. 

Mizuki thought he was losing his mind, at first. He thought it was possible that his guilt was manifesting in the form of these dreams because of how similar they were to what Hayate had told him about Iruka’s mission. He’d said some awful things to him, and he’d meant them. Still, they were awful, and he probably should have just gone on ignoring Iruka. 

Now, though, he was starting to become suspicious. Was this a disturbingly realistic nightmare, or was someone using genjutsu on him? When he thought about telling someone, he knew he would just sound paranoid. No shinobi in Konoha would attack a fellow, certainly not the few that knew about his fight with Iruka. 

Unless. 

Mizuki stepped out of bed and peered out his window, then snapped the curtains shut. The room was blanketed in total darkness. 

Could Hatake be behind this? 

Mizuki felt his way around his room, searching for the bottle of sleeping pills he kept in the nightstand. He swallowed a handful of them dry, then laid back down in his bed. 

Kakashi wouldn’t risk his position within the village by using genjutsu on Mizuki. He wouldn’t do something so reckless, so moronic, especially over something so misguided. 

Wouldn’t he?

__

Kakashi whistled a jaunty tune as he turned the corner and entered the mission room, one hand closed around a scroll and the other resting in the inner pocket of his vest, where one of his favorite Icha Icha novels was waiting for him to pay it some attention. He couldn’t help the way his expression lit up as he saw Iruka, sitting at the mission desk and focusing intently on what the cute, female desk nin was showing him. He knew he wasn’t hiding his feelings very well, but as much as he wanted to avoid alerting the whole village to their fledgling relationship, the things he felt for Iruka were just too large and wonderful to be concealed.

Not content with taking a month of medical leave, Iruka had begged the Hokage to let him work shifts at the mission desk, and since Tsunade couldn’t think of any actual reasons why he couldn’t, he’d been given a part-time job. Iruka was industrious. He didn’t know how to relax. It was one of the many things Kakashi marvelled over, how very similar they were at times.

“Hey, Umino,” Kakashi greeted, playfully flippant, and tossed the scroll he’d been carrying high into the air. 

Iruka snatched it before it could hit his teacher on the head. “Watch it!”

Kakashi chuckled. “Good to see you’re still sharp.”

“Sharper than ever,” Iruka countered, eyeing him suspiciously, “What’s this?”

“The official mission scroll for my strike team,” Kakashi explained, “I need you to make copies for everyone on that list.” 

Ibiki, Genma, Gai, Hayate, Anko, Asuma. The Hokage had protested him picking so many elite jonin, effectively removing them from the remaining pool of shinobi to lead the other strike teams, but she couldn’t question Kakashi’s reasoning. Theirs was the primary target, after all. 

Iruka read the list, and Kakashi could see his mind at work. He was probably thinking along the same lines as Tsunade had. He looked up at Kakashi, a question he really wasn’t allowed to ask on his face. Ordinarily, Kakashi had no issue with Iruka questioning him. It was a privilege of being his friend. But they were in the mission room, in public, and hierarchy had to be observed. 

“Thank you,” he said passively, though his eyes told Kakashi they’d be discussing it later, “I’ll get right on that.”

“Here,” the female desk nin said, reaching over and taking Kakashi’s scroll from Iruka, “Let me show you how to do that.”

Kakashi left them to their work and took up a position in the corner of the room. He slipped Icha Icha out of his pocket and eagerly opened it up to the first page. He’d read this one so many times before, the pages were worn and developing small tears. The last time Jiraya had been near Konoha, Kakashi had gotten him to sign the cover page. Kakashi ran a finger along the master novelist’s signature, taking a moment to marvel at what a complete, well-rounded genius Jiraya was: a master ninja and the world’s foremost erotic novelist. Truly, a Renaissance Man. 

He was gleefully turning pages and devouring words when he sensed the presence of Mizuki’s chakra outside of the building. Kakashi remained relaxed, keeping his shoulders loose, and continued reading. The negative energy kept getting closer and closer until Kakashi felt Iruka’s own chakra flare. _ He must be in the room _ , Kakashi thought. He turned another page, then went back and decided to re-read a passage he hadn’t been entirely concentrating on. 

“You’re working the mission desk now?” Mizuki’s voice, slightly nasally, was unmistakably mocking as he addressed Iruka. 

“Looking to take one? Of course you aren’t,” came Iruka’s reply. 

Kakashi’s heart swelled in pride at the pettiness of it all.

“You don’t know me,” Mizuki spat. 

There was the sound of some shuffling as the female desk nin took over. “You can have any of these missions, Mizuki.”

There was the sound of scrolls being unrolled. Mizuki hummed to himself as he read, then said, “How do we only have escort missions right now? I don’t want to go that far.”

Iruka clucked his tongue but said nothing. 

Kakashi closed his eye as he listened to Mizuki’s lowered voice as he whispered to Iruka. 

“Can we talk?” 

He sounded quite tense. Kakashi couldn’t resist taking a peek up from his book. Mizuki’s face was pinched. Iruka’s back was ram-rod straight. It was an uncomfortable scene, and the entire mission room had stopped to observe. 

Iruka put his hands on the table and rose. He addressed Mizuki at a normal volume. “Sure.” 

“Um, Umino,” the desk nin said shyly, “You’re really not supposed to-,”

“I’ll only be a minute,” Iruka promised. 

Kakashi forced himself to reman calm as Iruka followed Mizuki out of the room. He didn’t see any way for him to follow them without being obvious. He would just have to trust Iruka to hold his own against his ex. 

__

Iruka crossed his arms and leaned up against the wall once they were out in the hallway. Mizuki had some nerve, bothering him while he was at work, but he had to admit his curiosity. What he wouldn’t admit, though, was that he was hopeful for an apology. He’d never known Mizuki to make one before. 

“Iruka,” Mizuki said. He put a hand to the side of his face, rubbing slightly. He had large bags under his eyes, and his skin was pale and blotchy. Iruka had never seen Mizuki looking so ragged, so exhausted before. “How are you?”

Iruka arched one eyebrow. “Fine. You look like shit.”

“Um.” Mizuki shuffled his feet. “How’s Kakashi?”

“What do you want?” Iruka was running thin on patience. 

“I think he’s genjutsu-ing me.”

Iruka was stunned. “Who? Kakashi?” He looked at Mizuki with as incredulous a face as he could muster, but Mizuki didn’t seem like he was joking around. “That’s a serious accusation.” 

“I don’t know who else it could be!” Mizuki yelled, his sudden burst of emotion like a cherry bomb. He exploded, then looked utterly spent. “Listen, Iruka, I haven’t slept in, like, a whole week. I keep having these nightmares, the same exact one every night. I think Kakashi’s trying to get revenge on me.”

“Why would Kakashi want revenge on you?”

“You know,” Mizuki said, his eyes not meeting Iruka’s, “Because of those things I said to you.”

“Ah.” Iruka put one foot up on the wall and cocked his head to the side. “Those things you said to me,” he repeated in a monotone.

“Yeah,” Mizuki repeated hesitantly. 

“The things you said that you’re not sorry for?” Iruka continued. “You know I lost a tooth, right?”

Mizuki’s eyes went wide. “I really didn’t mean to get so violent. It wasn’t the right timing, for me to have said all that.”

“The right time,” Iruka repeated, eyes wide, “You’re sorry for the way you said it and not for what you said?”

Mizuki shook his head. “Let’s not do this here.”

“Then what did you come to do, besides waste my time?” Iruka pressed. He resisted the urge to snap his fingers in Mizuki’s face. “You know, I feel stupid for ever thinking you cared about me, that we could have anything together.”

“‘Ru.”

“You don’t get to call me that,” Iruka said, voice dangerously low, “You’re lucky I’m letting you speak to me right now.” He jerked his head back, indicating the mission room. “You’re lucky he’s not out here with us.”

“Don’t threaten me with your little boyfriend,” Mizuki countered, “This is why I called you a coward, you know!”

“I’m not a coward!” Iruka was furious. “You’re talking a lot of shit for someone who has no idea what I’ve been through.”  
“What _you’ve _been through?!” Mizuki roared, “Isn’t that rich? You’re the worst kind of coward!” He pointed a finger, jabbing it directly into Iruka’s chest. “You always get special treatment from everyone, you little nothing! The only thing you’re good at is lying on your back, which I guess is why they gave you that fucking mission in the first place.”

Iruka took a deep breath. “How were you so awful all this time, and I didn’t see it before?”

Mizuki sneered. “Say what you want. I’m right. You haven’t even accomplished half of what I have, but you get all the credit. Precious Iruka. If they knew you like I know you, they’d think twice about thinking you’re something special.”

“Oh, go to hell,” Iruka returned, sounding almost bored. Truthfully, he was tired of Mizuki. He was tired of fighting with this person he’d thought was his friend for so long. Mizuki’s words still stung, but Iruka was tired of letting it bother him. He no longer cared about Mizuki, and though his emotions still had some catching up to do, logically, he was well over it. “Seriously, Mizuki, go to hell.”

Mizuki stepped forward into Iruka’s space, their noses inches apart. “Make me.”

Iruka held his breath, his chest tightening. They were too close, entirely too close… He felt his heart begin to race, adrenaline spiking as he felt his body going into the beginnings of a panic attack. He put a hand out and pushed Mizuki away from him, a lot harder than was probably necessary. Mizuki took a few staggering steps back. “Stay away from me! I’m done with you.”

“You have the nerve to reject me?! I’m the one leaving you!” Mizuki looked like he wanted to swing. “You’re nothing, Umino! An insignificant nothing! Why am I the only one who sees that?! This whole time, I’ve been nice to you, trying to be your friend, trying to see just  _ what  _ it is everyone else sees, but you know what, Umino? There’s nothing special inside of you. You hear me?! Nothing!” 

When he was finished, he stopped, panting violently from the outburst. He glared for a moment longer, rage visibly boiling inside of him, and then he stormed away. Or, rather, he started to. Halfway down the hallway, Mizuki turned and yelled, loud enough that there was no way the entire building wouldn’t hear. 

“You’re damaged goods, Umino! Once he realizes that, he’ll leave you just like I did!!”

__

Kakashi held himself perfectly still for as long as it took for Mizuki to leave the building, whereupon he rolled backwards out of the open window of the mission room and fell two stories to land directly in front of him, blocking his path. He’d heard every word, and he’d be damned if he let Mizuki just walk away.

Kakashi unfurled, standing up from a crouch to his full height. He wasn’t that much taller than Mizuki, but it was enough to spike the other man’s chakra, clearly signaling his fear. 

“Yo.”

“Get the hell out of my way,” Mizuki snarled. 

“You’re not a very nice person, you know?” Kakashi mused, smiling underneath his mask. “It’s no wonder people don’t like you very much.”

“You think you’re so special, don’t you?” he spat, popping his knuckles as he spoke. It seemed like it was meant to be an intimidation gesture, but the effect fell rather flat, in Kakashi’s opinion. “You think you’re so goddamn special. Well, you’re not!”

“The way you say that,” Kakashi mused, “It’s funny, I don’t even think you believe it.”

“I’ll kill you!!” he screeched suddenly, and then he lunged, arms outstretched towards Kakashi’s throat. 

Kakashi side-stepped his attack and kicked out, knocking into Mizuki’s knees and sending him tumbling backwards. Instead of crumpling, Mizuki whirled his arms up to catch himself and twisted, throwing a kick of his own that glanced off Kakashi’s thigh. The impact hurt like hell and startled Kakashi long enough for Mizuki to pull off another attack. He grabbed the inside of Kakashi’s knee and pulled, sending them both tumbling to the ground, where they grappled for the upper hand until, ultimately, Kakashi managed to pin him to the dirt. 

Kakashi laughed mirthfully. “You actually got me, you son of a bitch.”

Mizuki spat up at him in response. His spit landed on the underside of Kakashi’s mask. 

Kakashi’s smile turned dark. “I’m going to have you court martialed so fast it’ll make your head spin.”

“Kill me yourself, you bastard!”

Kakashi shook his head, then flipped Mizuki over onto his stomach and performed a quick, single-handed seal to bind him. “Iruka doesn’t want me to, otherwise I would.” He leaned down, his mouth next to Mizuki’s ear. “Believe me, I would.”

“You know what they did to him,” Mizuki said, somehow still thinking he was allowed to speak, “You have to know, and you can still stand to touch him?”

Kakashi sighed and sat down hard on Mizuki’s back. “I don’t even know where to begin with you. I don’t even know if it’d be worth it.”

Kakashi looked up as the doors to the building slammed open and Iruka ran out, followed by a small crowd of people who’d probably seen Kakashi dive out the window. “Kakashi!!”

“Yo,” he said again, giving a little wave to Iruka as he approached. 

“What happened?” 

Kakashi shrugged. “We’re talking.” He patted Mizuki’s head. “He’s really an awful guy, Iruka.”

Iruka looked between them, clearly unsure of what to do. “Should I call Tsunade?”

“Don’t bother.”

Everyone turned to look as the woman herself exited the building. She looked elegant and slightly hungover, as always, dressed in a moss green wrap dress that hugged her body tight. Shizune trailed behind her, looking frantic. 

Tsunade stared down at Kakashi and Mizuki. “I have an office up there, you know. Why is it that, when my work is disturbed by shouting and people jumping out of windows, I always think to myself, Surely Kakashi can’t possibly be involved this time? And yet,” she chirped disapprovingly, “Here you are.”

“I didn’t start it, ma’am.”

“Oh, I heard what Mizuki was yelling.” Tsunade rolled her eyes. “How the hell do you even know about the details of a classified mission?” 

“Tell Hatake to let me up,” Mizuki whined.

“No. Talk.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Never mind. You know what? Just come with me. We’re dealing with this now. I didn’t want to believe Gai’s account of the stunt you pulled on the training grounds, but now I have no choice.”

Iruka looked mortified. “I told him not to bother you with it, Hokage.”

Tsunade put a hand on his shoulder. “Umino, it’s my literal job to be bothered about these things. Your safety is important, and if another ninja is going around knocking your teeth out, we have to deal with that.”

Kakashi stood and slapped his hands against his pants, brushing the dirt off of his palms. “Well then, I guess I’ll leave it in your capable hands.”

“Stop hand-delivering me messes, Hatake.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

__

“You weren’t really using genjutsu on Mizuki, were you?”

They were lying in bed together at the end of the day, holding hands in the dark after another night at Ichiraku, laughing and drinking together. Iruka had come to realize that, though his life had changed irrevocably since returning home, it wasn’t all for the worse. That, more than anything, was a comfort to him. That his life could seem to entirely come apart, and there would still be something to smile about. Iruka wasn’t smiling now, though, even if Kakashi’s hand in his had a pleasant, warm weight to it. Even if Kakashi’s fingers had a habit of playing lightly over the skin of his knuckles, tracing circles around the fine bones of his hands, and even if that sensation made him squirm and tingle with simple pleasure, Iruka couldn’t let go of their earlier altercation. 

Kakashi’s silence was damning. Iruka tried again. “Tell me you weren’t.”

Slowly, Kakashi closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he was regarding Iruka impassively. He gave a twitch of his head and shoulders, a nonchalant, insignificant gesture.

Iruka sat bolt upright in bed. “You were?”

Kakashi shushed him, smoothing his hand over the waves of hair tumbling down his partner’s shoulders. 

“Kakashi, that’s terrible.” He sunk back down onto the bed, returning to Kakashi’s arms. On one hand, it was a very serious crime to attack an ally, especially within Konoha’s walls. Kakashi could get in a lot of trouble if it ever came to light. On the other hand, Mizuki really had said some unforgivable things to Iruka. The responsible part of him hated the idea of Kakashi hurting someone on his behalf. The vindictive side wished he could’ve helped. 

Kakashi rolled onto his side to face Iruka, both eyes focused intently on him. Iruka had only seen the sharingan eye for the first time that night, and it was a beautiful as it was eerie. The three black dots orbiting the iris were hypnotic in a way, swirling lazily as Kakashi stared back at Iruka. 

“Doesn’t that drain your chakra?” he asked. 

Kakashi shook his head. “A little bit.” 

His face was completely uncovered, an incredibly rare thing, Iruka knew. He felt special that Kakashi felt this comfortable with him. He leaned forward and kissed the small birthmark underneath Kakashi’s bottom lip. Kakashi dipped his head and caught his lips, one of the many lazy kisses they’d shared that night. Iruka loved the way Kakashi’s lips felt. They were so soft because he was always wearing the mask, inadvertently protecting them from the wind. Iruka’s own lips were almost constantly chapped from a combination of being outdoors and a nervous habit he’d always had of biting them. 

“I didn’t mean to let it go so far,” Kakashi said then, voice quiet and musing, “I was only going to do it for one night, to scare him.”

“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me,” Iruka insisted. 

“I know you don’t.” Kakashi bent his head and kissed the hollow space between Iruka’s collarbones, the soft skin where neck met chest. Iruka thrilled a little at the sensitive touch, shivering pleasantly. “But I want to fight for you. You shouldn’t have to worry about someone like him.”

Iruka sighed and stretched a little, hearing a pop in his knee as he did. A small breeze blew in through the cracked window. His apartment always ran a little hot, which meant he could keep his window open even in the cooler months for a little fresh air. “Regardless, you shouldn’t have done it. You could’ve gotten in a lot of trouble.”

“I didn’t hurt him,” Kakashi insisted, although there wasn’t any particular emphasis behind his words.

Iruka felt blessed to have Kakashi in his corner. It was difficult to wrap his head around how startlingly things had changed in his life, but after his time in captivity, the memories of the way things were had started to warp and blur in his mind. Had he really  _ never  _ spoken to Kakashi before? What had he been doing with his time, other than taking missions, training, and hanging out with Mizuki? And had he  _ really  _ been sleeping with Mizuki, been fooled by his act when he so clearly had been using him?

Mizuki had stepped out, had shown his true colors in violent fashion, and now Kakashi was sharing his bed, cooking meals with him, and holding his hand through the darkest parts of the night. Kakashi, who up until recently had been something of a myth to him, an elite ninja Iruka only ever saw but never dreamed he’d have reason to speak with. 

He was wrong to have feared the changes. Readjusting to life after his mission was an every day battle, but he could keep putting one foot in front of the other, knowing he had Kakashi supporting him. Kakashi and all of his other friends, people he’d never thought of as his friends until they’d been there for him, like Anko and Hayate. Hell, even Gai was his friend, wasn’t he? 

Iruka curled into Kakashi’s body, luxuriating in the warmth of his body heat. They still had all of their clothes on, but they were dressed in civilian clothes rather than their uniforms. Iruka had loaned Kakashi a sweatshirt and pants, and the smell of their combined scents was making him sentimental. If only they could stay like this, if only they could both continue to be safe, wrapped up in each other in his apartment. If only Kakashi wouldn’t have to go...

Iruka wasn’t planning on returning to active duty. He wouldn’t be going out there anymore. It was a choice he’d never considered before, but talking to Anko had made him realize something important. 

“I’m going to take the Academy teacher’s exam.”

Kakashi’s eyes opened fully, registering his surprise. “What brought this on?”

Iruka sighed, rolling in closer to Kakashi and burrowing into his arms. He spoke to his collarbone, lips pressed against skin. “I just think, you know, that’s something I could actually be good at.”

“Iruka, you’re a good ninja,” Kakashi said, sounding a little confused, “You weren’t actually listening to what Mizuki said earlier, were you?”

“No, no,” Iruka muttered, “But he did get one thing right about me. I’m nothing special in combat, really. Not compared to a lot of other ninja in the village. Not compared to you.” He shrugged one shoulder and tightened his grip on Kakashi’s waist. “But I’ve always been really good with kids. I would be something special to them. And the Academy needs good people. I would make a great teacher, I think.”

Kakashi didn’t speak. Iruka felt his fingers playing lithely along his spine as he listened. 

_ “Teach me how to say family.” _

_ Iruka opened his arms as the girl crawled into his lap. She was too thin and barely weighed enough to inconvenience him. Indulgently, he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed.  _

_ “Family, huh?” he asked her.  _

_ Maru frowned thoughtfully, an expression that was far too adult, far too worldwise to be worn by a child. “I miss my family a lot.” _

_ Iruka swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. “Me, too.” _

_ “Who’s your family, Big Brother?” _

_ Iruka bit his lower lip, trying to maintain a presence of calm. He owed it to her to be an adult. “I don’t really have one.” _

_ “You don’t?” she asked with a gasp, “But you’re so nice!” _

_ Iruka wished he was still capable of laughter. He tried for a smile instead. “Thank you. That’s kind of you to say.” _

_ “Teach me!”  _

Something hard had lodged itself in Iruka’s throat, an emotion too thick and difficult to pass breath through, let alone words. He held his breath for a long minute, almost afraid of what would happen if he didn’t, and then he inhaled sharply, his lungs spasming as a sob broke free from him. 

“Iruka?” 

Iruka could feel the sting of salty tears in his eyes. “Kids deserve better, Kakashi.”

“What’s-?” 

Iruka looked up at him, fingers climbing to rest at the base of his pale neck. Kakashi’s eyes were swirling with confusion and worry. 

_ Iruka patiently scratched out the kanji for “family” on the wooden floor with the ring he wore on his finger. It had been given to him by the lord, to mark him as his favorite. Iruka dug the metal into the wood deep, gouging it permanently.  _

_ “This is the one that means family,” he explained, “See how this part curves and then hooks? It’s important you connect it just like that.” _

_ “Your words look so funny,” she said distractedly, her little fingers already tracing the carving with unconcealed fascination, “I love them.” _

_ “Do you love your family?” The question almost caught in Iruka’s throat.  _

_ Maru nodded, still pressing her hands to the floor. “I’m sure I’ll see them again soon. They’re coming to get me, I think, but its taking them so long.” _

_ Iruka didn’t know it was possible for his heart to be broken so many times.  _

“Her name was Maru,” Iruka told him, choking on her name. Tears ran thickly down his cheeks, but he needed to get the words out. “I talked about her in my report.”

“You did,” Kakashi agreed, stroking the side of his face with the back of his hand. “She was how old?”

“Eleven, I think,” Iruka answered, taking slow, shallow breaths. “She was the youngest one there. The cartel butchered her family and took her.”

_ “What do you mean you don’t really have a family? Where’d you come from if you don’t have a mommy and a daddy?” _

_ “I did have parents once. They’re dead now.” _

_ “But they’re still your parents, aren’t they?” _

_ “I… I guess so.” _

“Life is hard for kids,” Iruka said, “I want to make it easier, if I can.”

“I think you’d be great.” Kakashi pressed a kiss to the crown of his forehead. “You should do it, if you feel so strongly about it. I think you’ll be brilliant at anything you decide to put your mind to.”

Iruka smiled a genuine smile. He’d been a little worried, honestly, that Kakashi would patronize him, even though he knew the man better than that. The drive to teach wasn’t something he’d expected Kakashi to understand, considering his background as the youngest child soldier Konoha had ever had. It was reaffirming to realize that he could trust Kakashi with this, could have his unconditional support. He could  _ trust _ .

“Thank you.”

Time passed and, eventually, Iruka felt Kakashi’s breathing even out, felt him drift off to sleep still tangled together with him. He closed his eyes and savored the feeling of closeness. He didn’t know what he felt for Kakashi, exactly, but he was grateful for it, whatever it was. There was no guarantee that what they had would last, but it was enough for now to be together. Iruka closed his own eyes and let the steady rhythm of Kakashi’s beating heart lull him to sleep. 

That night, he had no nightmares. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey yal! this is technically the end of the PLOT of this story BUT, because you all deserve it so very much, chapter 6 is just going to be one incredibly prolonged sex scene. our boy still has some things to work through in the physical touch department, so stay tuned for gratuitous smut and more emotional healing <3
> 
> also i DO want to apologize for how relatively unedited this is. i've got an original work in progress right now and all of my editing attention span is going towards that. so please look upon me with kind eyes 
> 
> pls dont forget that you can interact w/ me on twitter and insta at @writechrist - im super friendly and post lots of dog pics!

**Author's Note:**

> hey - hope you're enjoying the story so far! i want to take this opportunity to let you know that comments are life, and you can feel free to drop me a line anytime on my twitter/insta @writechrist. i love hearing from readers, so dont be shy! i cooked up this idea while procrastinating my work for NaNo. im never not a sucker for kakairu hurt/comfort stories, but i promise yal i'm going to keep it tasteful. im making the active choice not to give graphic descriptions of the non/con because that's unnecessary for my purposes. im not in the business of rape fantasies but i AM in the business of emotional healing journeys SO with that said, stay tuned! xoxo


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